


the avatar, and that one good firebender, lee

by coolerpbeans



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gaang (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 73,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26031553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolerpbeans/pseuds/coolerpbeans
Summary: (based on that one tumblr post abt zuko turning the ship into a teahouse)the banished prince zuko takes on the identity of a common tea server to search for the hundred-year old avatar and to restore his honor. though eager to return to his old life, his time at sea has ushered in a new perspective, and in the midst of it all--indecisiveness, zhao, his sister, and tea-serving--he finds himself the main target of the avatar and his friends.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	1. water

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off a tumblr post about zuko turning the ship into a teahouse and the gaang kidnapping him. here is the link to the og tumblr post: https://captainkirkk.tumblr.com/post/184055844267/logo-comics-captainkirkk-au-where-zuko
> 
> credit to captainkirkk!
> 
> (yes i used the word shit)

“we’re getting close,” the boy announces, hands planted on the railing. peering out at the horizon, they all see it, watching as the white ice parts the blue waves in its path towards the ship. he calls, “get ready to dock.”

“zuko, it’s just the avatar.” iroh reminds, taking his place beside the boy. planting his own sleeves on the rail, the retired general sighs into a relaxed stance. behind them, the rest of the crew hurriedly set up the main deck with folded chairs and tables and carts of steaming tea. “remember, we’re here to sell tea.”

“no, we’re not, uncle,” zuko replies, breathing hard into the brisk air. before his uncle can reprimand him for wearing a thin coat, the boy continues, “we’re here for the avatar. we always have been.” the retired general falls silent at that.  _ yes, of course _ . 

“that being said--” iroh crosses his arms. “remember what we talked about earlier. we wait on your signal. until then, we sell tea.” with that, iroh turns to leave, and upon spotting the layout of the tables and chairs, begins directing the crew on  _ better aesthetic _ and  _ come on, jee, help kook with the chairs. _

“kook, if you’re having trouble with the chairs, why don’t you ask  _ lee _ to help you?” jee’s teasing suggestion warrants a grimace, and, tightening his collar, zuko leaves the railing to help kook out with the  _ stupid jamming folding chairs, i told you we should buy new ones _ . over the fumbling, lieutenant jee announces, “we’re approaching.”

the ice, closer now, sits as a stark white against the ship’s black frame. peering over the railing once more, zuko spots young children clad in their thick blue jackets, running towards the coast and waving at the incoming visitors. as the ship draws closer, eventually, the entire tribe lines the ice, standing huddled together for their scheduled tea visit. 

“miss kanna of the water tribe, glad to see you again,” iroh announces at the full stop, stepping down to grace the old woman with a polite handshake. “lee, come down, say hi to the water tribe.”

“come on, lee, we don’t have all day,” feng ushers behind zuko, hurrying him down the stairs. “my love! i miss you!” stepping down on the snow, the engineer rushes towards a girl, who giggles at his arrival.

“and which love is this one? mei? aki? mika?” kook mutters as she passes zuko by. crouching down before the incoming herd of children, she greets each with a smile and a candy from the last stop. mara, haku, and daito follow shortly after, bumping fists and high-fiving the kids with soft coos. “where’s yoshi? oh, my, you’ve grown so much.”

zuko stumbles forward, propelled by an encouragingly stern pat on the back. turning around, he eyes lieutenant jee in disdain, and even more so at the man’s suggestion to  _ socialize this time, kid _ . meeting iroh’s gaze, the retired general resonates the suggestion with a nod of his head. zuko, with another sigh, fixes his hair and settles for going back on deck, aiming to serve the incoming customers instead of  _ socializing _ . on his third step however, pulling on his sleeve, iroh jerks the boy back down, turns him right around, and, with a tight smile, faces zuko with two water tribe members, a boy and a girl, vaguely familiar. 

with a firm grip on zuko’s shoulder, iroh keeps the boy in place, and says, “lee, you remember kanna’s grandchildren. sokka and katara. they’re just about your age, right?”

“yeah, sure,” zuko mumbles, peering down at the two. they wave timidly. 

“i’ll leave you three to it, then,” iroh says, leading kanna and the other water tribe members up on the deck for some steaming tea. 

zuko expects another awkward greeting between the three of them, just like last time, but by the looks of katara’s eager smile, he suspects something anew with the southern water tribe. before he can utter a greeting, katara breaks her smile even further, with the question, “so, you wanna see an airbender?”

sokka rushes to quiet her, but zuko has already heard.  _ an airbender. the light beam.  _ “an airbender? i thought all the air nomads were wiped out.”

“well, you thought wrong,” sokka mumbles, rubbing the nape of his neck. “and, since you already know, i guess there’s no harm in showing you.” zuko tags along, an excited katara and a less-enthusiastic sokka leading him to a tent, and he walks so fast he nearly clips the water tribe boy in his heels. “is he still asleep?”

“yeah. maybe we should wait until he wakes up.” katara says after peeking inside. zuko doesn’t listen; he steps inside and peeks his head through the drapes, squinting through the dark shadows at the small lump of a body. the airbender rests, unguarded and unaware, with his hands curled around a blunt staff.

“he’s a boy.” that is what zuko notices. his skin, clear; marred by nothing but the arrows snaking around his limbs.  _ a master of airbending _ , zuko surmises, and he can’t help but think, but-- _ no, no, the avatar is a hundred year old man. this is just a kid _ .  _ right?  _ “you found him?”

sokka nods. “we were fishing and crashed into a big iceberg. my idiot sister here saw someone in the ice, tried breaking through it with a club.” he shrugs. katara scowls. “that kid was knocked out.”

_ in the ice? in the water? with those airbender tattoos?  _ zuko steps out of the tent as the young boy turns over in his sleep, scrunching his nose at the bright light outside.  _ no, it can’t be.  _ zuko nearly hopes. the siblings follow him back to the ship and he directs them to a table on the deck, absentmindedly taking their orders to relay to kook. as he crosses the length of the deck to grab the teapot in the back, iroh, once more, catches his gaze. 

“yes, smell the tea,” sokka smiles, wafting the incense from his cup. katara thanks zuko--or, a matter of fact,  _ lee _ \--and with a nod, he returns to the kitchen, dropping off the tea and loosening his collar. 

“zuko, what’s wrong?” he turns from the stove to iroh, his cheeks pink from the stark cold. 

either from the steam in the pots or from his own doing, the back of his neck is burning, and zuko curls his hand under his hair. the cold breeze weaving through the ship does nothing, and iroh takes the boy by his shoulders, easing him down into a chair. “speak, boy, what happened?”

zuko swallows dryly. “they found an airbender, in the ice, out in the ocean. no older than me, but he has his master tattoos.”

“you met the avatar?”

“i don’t know. he can’t be, uncle, right? he’s too young,” zuko claims, lowering his arms. “right?” but iroh stares back, silent and pondering. “uncle, what do i do?”

“that is your call, zuko. that’s what we agreed on.” the retired general stands, extending a hand to the boy. zuko takes it, rising from his seat. “where’s the boy?”

“he’s asleep.” 

iroh nods. “good. enough time to decide.”

  
  


the airbender awakes and in a short span of time, he glides around in the air, sticks his tongue to his staff, destroys a watchtower, and chases after a penguin. zuko watches intently through it all, stuck on the bright smile that beams across the supposed-avatar’s face.  _ just a twelve-year old boy _ , zuko remembers.  _ he must know nothing of the war.  _

the other night, iroh had approached zuko during his dinner, asking if he’d made a decision yet. zuko had no response at the time, neither did he in the morning, and, catching iroh’s peering gaze over his shoulder, not right now either. 

“aang, meet our tea friend lee,” sokka had introduced that morning, in between aang destroying the boy’s watchtower and aang running off into the distance for a penguin. zuko attempted to avoid such an introduction at all costs, but to no avail. “he comes here sometimes to serve tea.”

“on that ship?” aang pointed at said ship, with a tapestry and black paint strewn over the fire nation emblem. zuko nodded. “you have a traveling tea-shop?”

“yes,” zuko responded, standing stiffly in the presumed-avatar’s space. red hot against his neck, he felt iroh’s gaze deepen, and with that, the crew joined in as well, tapping impatiently for a signal. he looked back at the ship, meeting iroh with unreasonable desperation, before turning back to the giddy airbender. 

“why on a ship? why not on land?”

“easier to travel by sea.”

“why would you wanna travel?”

“aang, maybe you—on second thought, yeah, why a traveling tea house?” katara reconsidered, pondering the sight of the old, revamped warship. quickly, on deck, the crew dispersed to avoid the waterbenders’ line of sight. “a big ship, too. almost looks like—“

“study abroad,” zuko answered, snapping a hand to cover the back of his neck. “we like to study abroad.”

“study abroad? how does that work?” 

“the culture. we like visiting all the nations.” the three of them nodded in unison, an  _ ohh  _ of understanding. he could imagine feng scoffing-- _ the culture.  _ but, then again, his own share of culture was the abundance of pretty girls interested in a traveling tea server. 

“yeah, but, why tea?” sokka asked. zuko held back a sigh. “why are you even selling in the first place?”

“well, we ran out of money mid-journey, and my uncle has a big tea stash, and he has special tea providers, so, i guess...we started selling tea.” the gazes were still imminent, like the piercingly bright sun, and zuko had yet to make his call. he could hear jee muttering,  _ the avatar is right there, why doesn’t he get him? _

and zuko considered it. countless times, from watching aang glide in the air to him diving into his sky bison’s fur. even now, with the avatar gone, zuko still doesn’t have an answer. makes no call. 

“if you boys are gonna represent the southern water tribe, you might as well learn how to hold your bladder!” sokka yells down at the careless boys. back up on deck, zuko scoffs at the show. 

“pathetic. they don’t even have an army to protect themselves,” zuko mumbles into his palm. “not even a gust of wind. the fire nation could pummel straight through them without a second thought, and nobody would be able to do anything.” the tone is careless, but he remembers his own moments, staring as the ship passed war-torn plains, where he cared a whole lot more. 

“then why haven’t you done anything yet?” iroh asks, voicing the persistent question racking the entire crew’s minds. the question was less of when, and more of an if, after fourteen months of watching the banished prince dart from obsession to contemplation and back again. zuko turns to the older man, scowling at the comment. “you had the avatar when he was asleep. when he woke up. when he was right beside you.”

“you don’t seem like the patient type,” feng calls from a table, sipping his own tea. “it’s not like you to think.”

“maybe he’s just biding his time. waiting to be alone with him. you should’ve tagged along with the water girl earlier when they ran off,” kook suggests. “she seems easy to take out, but i heard she was a waterbender.”

and iroh finishes, “we’re just saying, while we are selling tea, we are also waiting for when you make the call.” just as zuko himself said the other day. as iroh turns away, he stops to add, “or  _ if.” _

with that, the crew clears the deck, preparing for their lunch. zuko, now no longer required for his assistance as lee, slouches against the metal railing, absentmindedly watching sokka direct the young generation of the water tribe, watching kanna discuss serious matters regarding the airbender with the other women, and watching aang’s sky bison tumble in the snow.  _ more time to think _ , zuko calls it, but he’d been calling it for months, day after day after his fourteenth birthday. 

_ birthday _ . the weight on his chest, he now notices, deepens at the word, at the sight of birthday cakes from the servants, the turtle ducks in the pond, his mother with her gentle hands in his hair. it brings to mind a joy zuko hasn’t felt, not since his banishment, until he met the avatar; bright smile, bright sun, a naive touch. he hears a sigh behind him. “kook, you don’t have to check on me.”

“jee and feng are cooking lunch. they want to know if you want meat,” kook relays. “i said yes. you might want a good meal before you capture the avatar.” awaiting a response, she only receives a soft breath, and so she takes the spot beside him. “okay, what’s wrong, zuko?”

zuko pauses, mulling the thought of dumping some inner conflict on his ‘manager’ with a grimace. through the months, zuko’s silent shame was that of confession, dipping into temporary reliance on the crew he was supposed to order around. but, considering it--this is the one of the two decisions zuko’s able to make for the day--he begins, “its weird. when i think of the avatar, i think of a wrinkly old man who has mastered all four elements, has lived and survived through war. but this boy, who might just be the real deal, is so young, and so happy, like the war isn’t even real.”

kook nods, and zuko continues, “but the war is real. and still, he laughs, he plays, he jokes. and i remember laughing, playing, and jokes back at home. but i also remember losing that all when i was banished.” he lowers his gaze, peering down at his shoes. “is it wrong of me to not wish that, even on the avatar?”

zuko returns to watching sokka drag a young boy away from the sky bison’s fur. the prince says, “i get that pain is a sacrifice. it’s a casualty of war and victory.” the words ozai imprinted on him, zuko recalls them well. he sneaks a glance at her, “and that should be the same for me, right? to get my honor back?” 

sokka surrenders to the boys’ demands, walking them to the bathroom. after another breath of harsh wind, kook bumps zuko in the shoulder. “it’s like that one thing iroh said, about the past and unnecessary change...and, pain?”

“seeking for the past blinds one from unwanted change,” zuko corrects. a somewhat vague phrase iroh offered some time ago. “and that only brings pain.”

kook nods. “yes. it’s what i imagine he’d say if he weren’t watching feng to make sure his pork is fried right.” a short laugh. of course. “but think about it. your birthday, when you went back. you saw how much home changed. it hurt you. while the avatar is your way back to your honor, just consider if that is the way you want to choose.”

“what if i don’t have a choice?” he asks, digging his chin into his palms. “should i do it anyway? to go home?” 

“i don’t know,” kook responds. “we used to believe in the good of the fire nation, that conquest would spread order and peace. but we’ve seen, everywhere, countless cases of disorder and pain. to me, i’ve grown to like selling tea, because it’s like a little helping hand.” arriving back from the outhouse, sokka resumes little soldier training. “going on this search, seeing and doing things, i don’t know. i don’t really wanna go home anymore. i mean, i have nothing to go back for. but that’s all me. it’s not my choice. it’s yours, zuko.”

he sighs once more. “thanks, kook.”

“anything for you, prince lee,” kook responds, ruffling the boy’s hair. 

iroh steps back on deck, his bowl of pork in hand. “get your lunch! feng cooked—“

_ crackles _ . splattering across the start blue sky is red, a shimmer of light shooting up high in the clouds before dwindling down. the water tribe children point in awe at the sight, as kanna stares worryingly at iroh, and as iroh narrows his eyes at the sky. 

the crew is already scattering, raising the anchor, preparing to leave. sokka runs on deck, shouting, “what was that?”

“a flare,” feng calls as he and jang rush the teapots inside on a cart. “fire nation flare. the other navy ships probably saw it, too.”

“well, what does that mean?” kanna asks, climbing herself on board. 

“it means,” zuko says, meeting sokka’s eyes. “they found the avatar.”

* * *

“aang, it’s best to not leave now,” iroh advises the airbender after he explains the trap in the deserted ship. the attention fixated on him, he adds, “the fire nation is already on its way.”

“then, what do we do?” kanna asks. “the boy led them right to us.”

“we’ll, uh,” zuko steps forward, another jerk of instinct. they look to him immediately. “we’ll tell them to turn around. right, uncle?” gazing back at iroh, the man shrugs. 

“please, anything you can do,” kanna begs at zuko. “we won’t survive.”

the boy nods. turning to the crew, he orders, “we’ll intercept the ship when it comes and tell them the flare was nothing. keep the tea and tables.” 

as jee disappears into the bridge, kook stays by the railing to watch the horizon, and feng and jang, following zuko’s grueling orders, put back the folded chairs and wheel back in the tea. zuko retreats below deck, loosening his collar and pulling his hair back into a high tail. iroh, assuring kanna, has her step back down with sokka on the snow before the water thickens between them.

“i see them. it’s only one ship,” kook announces. “where’s lee?” eyes scanning the deck, she finds no brash tea server in sight, and nods. “good.”

“you don’t have to do this,” aang says, landing on the deck with a brush of wind. “i can turn myself in.”

“nonsense, they’re looking for the avatar, not an airbender,” iroh says, clapping the boy in the back. “you get back to your friends now. when the fire navy comes, they’ll soon find that there is no avatar here.” 

for a moment, aang hesitates, but he nods and returns to his tent. behind iroh, jang grumbles, “i hope zuko knows what he’s doing.”

off by the railing, waiting with tea in his hands, mara adds, “let’s hope he can make a decision today.”

  
  


“we’re crossing the ship’s path as we speak. soon, we’ll be boarded,” iroh relays, finding zuko in his room, clad in his armor. earning no response, iroh continues with jang’s words, “i sure hope you know what you’re doing, prince zuko.”

said prince tugs on the rest of his armor and, fixated on the mirror, he strings an eyepatch over his scar. “i haven’t made my decision yet,” he says, tugging his hair once more. “but one thing i’m set on is, i’m not letting anyone else get the avatar.”

  
  


commander zhao steps on the jasmine dragon’s deck, wafting a heavy inhale of incense. iroh meets him with a smile, followed by the rest of the crew, and he greets, “commander zhao, nice to see you. what brings you to the southern water tribe?”

“we saw a flare not far along,” zhao states, surmising the area with a purse of his lips. then, down at the general, he muses, “and what brings  _ you  _ to the southern water tribe?”

iroh shrugs. “just selling tea.” 

zhao crosses his arms, narrowly staring down at the retired general, before averting his gaze to the other crew members aboard, darting from lieutenant to engineer, cook to servant. “i take it your banished prince is not with you?” iroh pauses. zhao smiles. “we’ve all heard it. prince zuko, abandoning his uncle to chase down the avatar. on the eve of his birthday, too.”

“i’d rather not dwell on it.”

the commander’s smile widens. “of course. i’d rather focus on finding the avatar.” walking past iroh, zhao stares at the far-off southern water tribe camp. sokka stands on the ice, in front of the tribe, with his club ready. “i take it you heard at least something from them?”

feng stands waiting patiently, the tea steaming high in the everlasting cold. iroh shakes his head. “no. they just wanted some good tea.” 

“then why don’t we serve it?” zhao turns to his crew and orders them to go around and dock by the water tribe. 

“commander zhao, we have already served it,” iroh informs. unbothered, zhao takes a seat at one of the empty tables. “i think you’ll find that--”

“then you can serve it again while we ask questions,” zhao interjects, warning the older man with the tilt of his head. then, he points at feng, “you there, come on, serve some tea.” 

the two ships, one fire nation and the other a hesitantly returning teahouse, cut through the deep blue waters at alarming speed. jee guides the ship to gently dock by the coastline, while zhao’s ship digs into the snow, melting the coast with its steaming edges. kanna, meeting them, bows her head. “hello, we welcome you to the southern water tribe.”

the greeting falls short, kanna’s voice barely reaching zhao, who sits on deck, sipping his tea. the soldiers from his ship file out onto the snow, steam arising from their footprints, as they surround the water tribe. iroh turns to zhao. “what are you doing, commander?”

the man stares down at his tea, feeling the warmth rise. he looks at his soldier, jerking his head. “bring them aboard for some tea.”

the water tribe members, women and children alike, climb aboard; yet contrary to zhao’s earlier demands they stand, huddled together, not a serving in sight. “i believe that the avatar is hidden amongst your people. is this true?”

“we know nothing of the avatar, commander,” kanna answers, head still bowed. sokka steps forward, shielding her, with a single club against the five soldiers marking them.

“i believe that is not true,” zhao accuses, standing to his feet. he sets his cup down and sokka grips his club, tightly. “the other day we spotted a beam of light in this area. and earlier today, a flare was shot.”

“we assure you, commander, if we had any idea of the avatar’s whereabouts, we would tell you,” kanna stays. clasping her hands together, she looks up at him. “it's the truth.”

iroh steps forward in kanna’s defense. “i apologize, commander zhao, the flare was our mistake. we...accidentally set it off.” 

zhao takes a pause in his steps, wiping the spilt tea from the corner of his mouth. then, with another step, he nears the uncle. the crew watches intently, jang mumbling below his breath  _ where’s lee? _ as the commander ponders over another thought. then, breaking the tense silence, zhao laughs.

“i know. you sad, old uncle,” zhao mocks, a pitying smile breaking through. “even after your nephew abandons you, you still help him. treating him like the son you lost at ba sing se.” jee and kook look down, biting back words. “you shot the flare to lure us here. to keep us from finding prince zuko.”

but iroh plays along, avoiding zhao’s apathetic gaze. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“he’s here, isn’t he? with the avatar? and you got these poor people to lie for you,” the commander sneers and pushes past to grab hold of kanna, the poor woman shrinking in his grasp. “i don’t care if you don’t have the avatar. if you don’t find him, she gets it.”

“you can’t--gran gran--!” 

“katara, wait,” sokka urges, holding his sister back, as zhao throws the old woman in his soldiers’ hands. as he picks his tea up again, he orders the other soldiers to search the town.

“no, aang,” katara whispers, looking back at the tent. kanna cries out once more as the soldiers force her down to her knees. glaring at zhao, katara fights against sokka’s grip. “let her go!”

zhao laughs. taunting, he says, “what are you going to do about it, little girl?”

“katara, stay back. you’ll only make things worse.” sokka’s whispers fall silent on the waterbender’s ears, and she watches as zhao, ordering his soldiers to burn the village, warms up his tea cup in the palm of his hand.  _ hot water.  _ and sokka knows, tightening a grip on her shoulder. “don’t try anything.”

but she tries nonetheless. calming herself down, she focuses on the tea, the small ounce of steaming water, and with a small flick of her wrist, she shoots the liquid upon zhao’s face. the man cries out, hands planted on his chin, managing a hissing growl through the pain, “you little--”

“katara!”

“grab her!” zhao barks, throwing the ceramic cup to the ground. glowering at the girl, he grits through his teeth, “another waterbender. i’ll burn those hands a--”

“stop!” focusing on all the tea cups and pots, katara raises her arms, and with a shaky build, the burning liquid rests above commander zhao’s head. the teas swirl together in a mass, steaming against the cold air. with her shaking hands, she hopes, dearly, it won’t backfire this time. “i-if you don’t leave us alone, i’ll drop it! all of it!”

the soldiers pause in their steps, the fire ceases, and zhao glowers in his place. sokka tugs on her sleeve, “katara, put it down, please. you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“i can’t let them hurt gran-gran.”

“you wouldn’t dare drop it,” zhao seethes. “i’ll make sure you never waterbend again, girl.”

iroh stretches out a hand. “zhao, please, let’s--”

“enough! i want the avatar, now!” the commander shouts. “you little girl, you don’t know what you’re doing!” a rush of fire springs forward from his palms, aiming for katara’s nimble hands, whose panicking hold on the tea begins to freeze over. iroh shouts, sokka pulls, and in a single breath, cutting the warm air, aang snaps shut his glider as he lands, silent, on the wooden deck. the fire’s gone and the tea, now frozen, falls with a shatter all over the deck.

“enough. you want me, i’m here.” aang guards katara, matching zhao’s piercing glare. “i’m the avatar.”

  
  


“set course for the fire nation,” zhao orders, a smirk plastered upon his face. skin still stinging, he rubs the pink skin, and casts another scowl back at the disappearing water tribe. before he could punish the waterbender girl, the avatar had made his case. “we have the avatar.”

despite expecting a smooth course to the fire nation with the avatar in hand, the door to the bridge bursts open, knocking zhao in the back, and the avatar leaps over his grunts before landing softly on the outer deck. aang snaps open his glider, attempting to take off, but a soldier grabs him by the ankle, slamming him back down on deck. “avatar,” zhao sneers. “you don’t have a chance, boy.”

“zhao!” the attention snaps to the crows nest, squinting against the sun. 

“what is it now?”

the black figure jumps down onto the deck, flames spitting from his heels and forcing zhao and the soldiers back. and prince zuko enters, arms at the ready, as he circles zhao and aang. 

“prince zuko,” zhao declares. “i knew it.”

“hand the avatar over,” the banished prince demands. 

“i apologize, prince zuko,” zhao mocks. “we’re on strict orders to keep the avatar from you. orders from the fire lord.” zuko narrows his eyes. “besides, i think it’s best for the task of finding the avatar to be left to me. you’re just a boy, after all.”

“give him to me.”

“is that a demand? or a beg?” the commander laughs. “you’re more pathetic than i thought. you actually believe you can get the avatar.” zhao follows in circling the prince as the soldiers drag aang to the side. “but you’re a failure. even your father knows that.” he raises his arms, bearing a teasing smile. “i’ll tell you what. you can get the avatar, on one condition.”

“what?”

zhao lowers himself into a stance and rips off the outer layer of his armor. “an agni kai. right now.”

“fine.” zuko sheds his coat. 

“get ready, prince zuko,” zhao taunts. with a mocking hand, he covers the left side of his face. “you might just lose the other eye.”

  
  


“down there, appa!” katara directs, and sokka tugs on the reins. appa hovers over the ship, and the two siblings catch sight of zuko and zhao battling. “why are they fighting?”

“i don’t know, for fun? maybe that guy with the eyepatch is saving aang,” sokka suggests. “doesn’t look like much of a fight though, he’s losing.”

with a fourth blast, zhao pummels zuko to the ground, and the prince slides across the deck. catching his breath, zuko blinks hard through the sweat and warmth overcoming him. in the back of his mind, he remembers iroh’s words,  _ your basics, zuko. break his root _ . before him, zhao waits, smugly teasing him with a jerk of his chin. 

“the commander’s hurting him, maybe we should step in,” katara muses, peering down at the fight. 

sokka shakes his head. “and get involved in that? no thanks. let’s just get aang and go. that boy is dead meat.”

before zhao can swing down, zuko rolls out of the way, swinging his feet, and knocks the commander’s ankle off balance. zhao stumbles as the prince rises to his feet, and to the siblings’ amazement, he shoots blast after blast, hand and foot, at the commander. sokka mumbles, “nevermind, he managed.”

“finish the duel!” zhao barks, awaiting zuko’s final shot. the grimace deepens as the prince turns away to pick up his coat. aang lets a small yip of joy fly out, but the victory is short lived as zhao pulls onto his feet, twisting his hips for a strong kick. 

“sokka now!” katara calls, and the boomerang curves and knocks zuko to the ground, who narrowly misses the blast. aang takes that as the time to break from the soldiers’ hold, blowing them back. “you were supposed to hit the old man!”

“i saved him, at least.”

rubbing his head, zuko climbs to his feet and ushers in his last blow for the confused and impatient zhao, knocking him off the ship. the avatar runs across the deck, glider ready, and, his mind frozen, zuko’s feet move on their own. katara spots aang take off on a running start, but a tug on his coat and he is pinned down, prince zuko standing over him. “you’re mine now, avatar.”

“aang!” the airbender releases another blast of air as he leads with a kick, knocking zuko away. appa dives down once more, katara holding out a desperate hand, and aang jumps high. then, with a gasp, katara pulls away. “watch out!”

as appa swerves to the side, aang catches a sliver of light on his right before the next blast knocks him out of the air. with a swipe of his hand he softens his landing, but tumbles over to the edge of the deck. as the avatar regains his stance, zuko doesn’t hesitate, jumping high and swinging his leg in a fiery haze. two blasts, and aang falls overboard, missing katara’s awaiting hand as the water overtakes him. 

“aang!”

  
  


soaking wet in a flimsy boat, zuko returns to the jasmine dragon, climbing aboard to latch onto feng’s outstretched arm. kook approaches with a towel, draping it over his shoulders as she undoes zuko’s gold hair tie and feng pulls off his eyepatch.

“didn’t know we were going fishing today, iroh,” jee jokes, only earning sighs and indifferent eyes. “fine, no more jokes.”

“it was good,” jang offers in a mumble, shrugging to the lieutenant. “just not at the right time.”

“jang, pull a chair, zuko, drink this tea.” iroh pushes the cup into the boy’s hands as kook guides him into the seat kicked forward by jang. “jee, turn the ship around.”

zuko sips, closing his eyes at the warm water. feng approaches and, ruffling the prince’s hair, sets down a plate of food. “here, lunch. we ate while we were waiting for you.”

“so,” daito says, pulling up a seat. “did you save the avatar?” the crew pauses at that question, as does zuko, and they stare, once more. 

“i fought zhao for him,” zuko states. “and then the avatar flushed me off the ship.”

  
  


“okay, travel plans aside,” sokka interrupts, cutting short katara and aang’s excitement for a journey to the northern water tribe. “that boy with the eyepatch that fought you, who was he?”

aang rubs his head, still fresh from the avatar state. “i think zhao called him zuko--prince zuko.”

“like, the firelord’s son, prince zuko?” katara asks. “wasn’t he banished?”

“he must be looking for you, too, aang,” sokka says. and then, with a laugh, “but seriously, that eyepatch? what’s up with that?”

aang snickers. “i know, right? he was standing over me like,  _ you’re mine now, avatar _ , and all i could think was why he looks like a pirate!”

  
  


“achoo!”

“poor prince zuko,” iroh laments, swishing the tea in his cup. “catching a cold whilst saving the avatar.”

* * *

“did we really have to leave kyoshi?” sokka, staring at the singed village, mopes into the palm of his hand. his other cheek stays flushed, with a red mark painted in a warrior’s intricacy. “ah, suki.”

“yes, really. the fire nation is on our tail,” katara exclaims, rolling her eyes at sokka’s grief. “you know what, i bet it was that eyepatch guy chasing us. the--the prince, prince zuko?”

“him! yeah, that jerk,” sokka scowls. “he really had to make us leave. i can’t believe i saved him.”

“you hit him with your boomerang.”

“yeah, thus saving him from doom,” sokka corrects, his sister scoffing at the explanation. “whatever. wherever we go next,  _ i  _ wanna talk to the warrior girls.”

  
  


“lee, if you’re gonna steal my shift, might as well tell me about it,” jang mutters in the kitchen, setting down his tea pot as he loosens his tie. “i got all dressed up for nothing.”

“we don’t have shifts,” zuko calls, earning a grumble of  _ i wasted all this hair gel  _ as jang retreats to his room. 

“uh, yeah we do,” feng says, grabbing a tea pot and a set of three cups and relaying the customers’ orders to kook at the table. 

“we do?”

“zuko, i started it last month,” kook informs, exasperated, before taking notes of feng’s customers’ orders. she points to a board behind her, one that zuko hadn’t noticed before, lined with names and times of the day. “come on, get with the program. i guess you can do jang’s shift until lunch.”

“fine.”

“prince zuko says fine, but lee the tea server says sorry.” feng and kook snicker at the boy’s grimace. 

“fine—sorry,” zuko splutters. “whatever.” taking his teapot, he marches out of the kitchen and onto the deck, bearing a pout as he passes iroh by. 

behind him, feng calls, “and if you’re interested--i have a shift tomorrow too!”

  
  


the jasmine dragon docks at kyoshi island, and, stepping on dock, the crew notes the scorch marks scarring the trees, streets, and buildings. meeting them however are the kyoshi warriors and oyaji, all bearing welcoming smiles. “the jasmine dragon, we’ve been waiting for your arrival. we haven’t gotten enough of your tea since you last visited.”

iroh smiles, shaking oyaji’s hand and bowing to the kyoshi warriors. “i too have waited long for this. the desserts we bought didn’t last a week.” smile dropping, he gestures to the landscape. “but may i ask what happened here? has the fire nation attacked?”

oyaji nods solemnly. “we take it that news of the avatar’s arrival spread quickly. the fire navy attacked, but the avatar defended our town and put out the fires with the unagi.”

“the avatar?” zuko asks, interest piqued. “the avatar was here?”

“yes,” oyaji nods. “they left a few days ago, after fighting the fire navy.”

“did they--”

“well, it seems your people have worked hard rebuilding; they deserve some good tea, oyaji,” iroh interrupts, raising a hand to direct the warriors up on deck. then, at his nephew, “lee, help feng bring oyaji’s shipment from the back.” 

“come on, prince, before you make a fool of yourself,” feng muttered, dragging zuko back on the deck. 

  
  


during music night, zuko wanders off the ship, letting the echoes of lieutenant jee’s violin dwindle, and sits by the shores. pulling out a napkin from his pocket, he snacks on the dessert he saved from town, and pauses to roll up his pants and pull at his collar. with a sigh, he turns around. “you don’t have to follow me around all the time.”

“a prince should be treated like a prince, zuko,” feng states, sitting beside him. “besides, iroh was about to do his solo, and you know how he gets.”

“i, personally, like his singing,” jang interjects, kicking sand into the water. “i just came here to see the unagi. i never get to see it.”

“i just wanted to make sure none of you got eaten by it,” kook says. she kneels beside zuko. “why are you here?”

“i needed silence, to think.” zuko sighs once more, handing the rest of his dessert to jang. stuffing the napkin back in his pocket, he leans back onto the sand. 

“we can listen, if that’s better.” feng leans down the same, bumping shoulders with a light smile. “we know you like to babble.”

“i do not.”

“right, you steal shifts,” jang jokes, scooping a handful of sand and throwing it in the water. 

“we’re here to listen, not babble,” kook reminds. looking down at zuko, she asks, “now, what’s been bothering you? you usually don’t like serving. now you’re doing it everyday.”

_ maybe he likes tea _ , feng whispers. zuko adjusts his head, brushing the sand off his cheek. “do you think meeting the avatar is a sign? or some test?”

“for you, maybe,” jang responds. 

“yeah, exactly.” the prince fumbles with his hands, rubbing at the sand between his fingers. “when i first met him, he looked so young and happy. instead of how i expected meeting the avatar would be like, i just...felt so afraid.” it’s not apparent, but zuko can feel it; their eyes, though in the dark, finding their way towards him. “i didn’t know if i could even try to capture him. i thought about my honor, and then, i just thought, what about his? his happiness? would that bring back mine? what if i’m not happy back at home?”

“why wouldn’t you be?” feng asks. 

and the firebender pauses.  _ seeking for the past blinds one from unwanted change _ . he considers his home, at the palace, with his father, azula, the servants, the turtle ducks, and, lastly, his mother. he thinks of the war meeting, the agni kai, his father’s unapologetic stance overtaking him. he remembers the pond, his mother, and her parting words. and then, his fourteenth birthday, when he swam, hid, and traveled through the dumps to reach the palace, finding no memorial, no wish; just his father and his council, azula and her lightning. is this the past he seeks for? the home he’d bet his honor on? the avatar on? 

looking at kook, he considers his travels so far--the southern water tribe, so close to melting apart from zhao’s attack; kyoshi island, scorched and burnt; and countless earth kingdom outlying villages and towns, their refugees lining the barren plains. he remembers being docked, selling tea, and offering a peasant girl bread from the kitchen; stopping for a family of refugees, offering them the spare rooms before the fire nation could find them; iroh singing for music night, and the travelers, all seeking passage away from the invading fire nation, relaxing together. the pain, the compassion, the work. has he been watching it all this time with lack of thought?

“i don’t know,” is all he says. “but after defeating zhao, i didn’t think about all that. the avatar was about to leave, and, i just...i pulled him down. i wanted to take him. and then he got away. i don’t know what to make of it.”

“i don’t either,” feng shrugs.

“what to make of it is that you have a choice. you’ve always had it,” jang states, retiring into a squat. digging more sand, he takes the clumps and places it to and fro. kook shifts in her seat, feng rubs his nose. “get the avatar and go home with your honor. leave the avatar, and never go home at all. you’re confused because it means so much to you to go home, but so much to everyone else to spare him.”

“the avatar hasn’t kept peace for a hundred years. what if my father only wants to take his place?”

“the only reason for the need for peace,” jang says, flattening his mountains of sand, and laying down across them. “is that he and his forefathers have disrupted it.”

zuko falls silent. “i know it’s hard for you to believe that because, well, you were raised by him,” kook says. “but your father and his fathers before him have promised peace and only ever brought war. and, sure, we were also taught about the good of the fire nation. but for us, we’ve lived with suffering. and despite being told that our lives would improve over time, it hasn’t, and i for one don’t want to wait another twenty-two years for it.”

though he’s never one to ask someone’s business, zuko has heard enough about his crewmates to understand where they come from. not from a palace, an heirline of royalty, a destiny to be groomed--kook, abandoned as a child, grew up an errand girl before joining his crew; jang’s family, like many others, was displaced in a colony when their lands were taken, and he was enrolled and required to train as a soldier to guarantee his parents food and money; feng worked as an engineer on warships to pay out his father’s debts; and it’s rumoured between the crew that jee was a war criminal of the earth kingdom who began his sentence serving as a soldier, eventually becoming lieutenant. the rest--daito, mara, haku--leaped at the opportunity for a ticket out the fire nation. to him, finding the avatar is his ticket back home; to them, accompanying him warrants a paycheck. 

“you should take notes, prince zuko,” feng suggests, bumping their shoulders once more. “you’ll have all these things to fix when you’re fire lord.”

hesitantly, the crew waits for zuko’s initiative to laugh, and when he, in the least bit, chuckles, they smile along. “i won’t be fulfilling your demands so long as i’m banished.”

  
  


“the avatar,” jee remarks, staring up at the sky. “he’s here, again.”

“he’s headed for the fire temple.” the avatar and co have easily passed through the fire nation blockade, but for him, the task won’t be so easy, zuko presumes at first. then, the blockade stops, and zhao watches as the jasmine dragon sails by. “zhao’s letting us pass?”

“he wants to follow you to the airbender,” iroh infers. “what do you want to do?”

the travelers aboard would certainly demand refunds if the ship was to participate in naval combat. not to mention, the spilled tea. zuko pulls his hair up, and ties it tight with a golden band. “if he wants to follow our trail of smoke, let him.”

  
  


“i take it your plan failed,” feng remarks, once more pulling a drenched prince aboard. he snaps off zuko’s eyepatch. “we were going to tell you zhao followed you anyway, but you were already too far away.” 

kook wraps a towel around zuko’s neck again, iroh pushes tea into his hands again, and feng, with an uncaring smile, serves him his lunch, cold, again. zuko sighs into his hands, letting the steam from the cup rise in front of his face. 

“the avatar turned into avatar roku and wiped us all out,” zuko informs, voice muffled in his hands. “he escaped with his friends.”   
  


“and, what do you make out of that?” jang called from the crows nest, laughing on his own. 

zuko broods, wringing out his hair once more. “that i should stick to selling tea.”

* * *

jang lets out a restless sigh. “i guess we have to get used to calling him  _ admiral  _ zhao, huh?”

the comment is met with silence, as the entire crew, jang included, watch the poor prince zuko intently; curiosity piqued at his uncaring self laid out on his mattress. feng bites the bullet. “zuko? how are you, buddy?”

zuko offers a huffing breath. just two hours ago the jasmine dragon docked at another port on their schedule, stopping for travelers to step off, for iroh to buy more tea from his special provider, and for feng to visit his ladies. for zuko, however, was the arrival of commander--or, for better word, admiral--zhao, cornering the ship in the docks with the placid order that, for the time being, and for no suitable reason, no ships were permitted in or out of the area. 

“i mean, if you...if you go right now, you could probably get to the avatar before zhao,” jang suggests. the admiral was still instilling a blockade, informing all incoming or departing ships of the news. “like, right now. if you wanted to.”

with another sigh issued, zuko rises, swiftly, and leaves the room in a decided manner. 

“really? that got to him?”

  
  


“aang?” katara wakes, groaning at the ache of her forehead. sokka does just the same, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “no frogs in my mouth, right?”

“no, none, now hurry guys!” aang cries, shaking the duo awake. katara sits up, noting their sleeping bags, coats, and food packed and strung up on appa. “we gotta go back!”

“go back where?”

“aang, in case you forgot, we were sick for days,” sokka complains, gulping down his water. “what’s the rush for anyway? another tourist site?”

“no! no, no,” aang repeats, jumping up on appa. “please, hurry, i’ll tell you on the way over.”

after the siblings hoist themselves up on the bison, aang makes haste in taking off, flying towards the pohuai stronghold. aang explains, “when you guys got sick, i was told by an herbalist to get the frozen frogs for you to suck on.” both siblings mumble an  _ ugh. _ “but when i went to get them, i was captured by zhao, and he took me to this stronghold and locked me up. he wanted me to live in prison, so that the avatar could never be reincarnated.”

“aang, that’s horrible,” katara comments. “how did you get out?”

“i’m getting to it!” a tug on the reins, and appa dips a far right. “a spirit saved me. a blue spirit, and when we were leaving, he got shot. i wanted to go back for him, but he told me to go, and i-i did, because i told him i was gonna go back for him.”

“so, where are we going?”

“back to the stronghold!”

“aang, no,” sokka presses. “you just got out of there. i’d rather you not wind us all up in the same situation.”

“i have to go back for him.” stubbornly, aang rushes appa, but pulls on the reins hard a moment later, once catching sight of the ground below. “what happened?”

the water tribe siblings, wiping the grogginess from their eyes, peer down below. there, barely standing, sits the burnt ruins of a stronghold, the wooden frame now ashes, and the soldiers and archers aang fought through--gone. “no, he can’t be gone.”

“what could’ve cause a fire like that?” katara wonders. at aang’s faltering expression, she suggests, “maybe you should try the town nearby. maybe he escaped, and went there.”

“i don’t know,” aang mumbles, but pulls the reins anyway, and turns appa around. 

  
  


zuko finishes the last bite of his lunch and, before he can pick up his plate, jang reaches over. with a snatch, the boy brings it to the sink with the offhand comment, “how’s the shoulder, prince?”

zuko grunts. jang nods, returning to the table to finish his own plate. kook peeks her head in, smiling at the two, “zuko, you’re awake.” another grunt. “did you eat lunch?”  _ yes _ . “good. get some more rest.”

“don’t pamper him like the prince he is, it’s been three days,” feng complains upon his entrance, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. “watch this.” imitating a  _ woosh _ , the engineer feigns swinging a fist in slow motion towards zuko’s shoulder. upon the slow impact, zuko grabs feng’s first, squeezing hard. “nevermind. but look, he’s got the other arm moving.”

“one of you better get on deck and start cleaning up before your break ends,” iroh grumbles as he barges inside. immediately do feng and jang stand upright. “and someone get zuko his lunch.”

“i already did.”

“then set up the tables! if they find us unprepared and understaffed, they’ll give us a bad rating! we’ll never live it down.” with that, iroh leaves, and, begrudgingly, the duo files out. zuko sighs, heavily, and rubs his shoulder, just above the wound. 

just three days ago, he was stuck in the ship--admiral zhao’s doing. he’d snuck out at night, following zhao and his archers through muddy waters to the pohuai stronghold. when aang was captured, zuko listened to the admiral’s promise of imprisoning the avatar until death, ensuring there’d be no reincarnation. 

and of course, zuko had thought to himself, if anyone was deserving of capturing the avatar, it wasn’t  _ zhao _ . so he’d strung on his mask, wielded his broadswords, and inadvertently saved the avatar, who asked him,  _ who are you?  _ to which zuko responded,  _ i’m a servant of the spirits.  _ their introduction shortlived, zuko was shot in the back, and despite the avatar’s sympathetic efforts, he demanded the avatar to leave him behind. 

with an arrow in his shoulder, zuko ran to lead zhao’s men off the trail. once alone, he tended to his wound, wrapping it in bandages. he waited a day, and, hiding the mask in his coat, he strung up his hair in a high tail (quite painfully), slipped on his eyepatch, and headed back to the stronghold. 

“prince zuko, a pleasure to have you aboard,” zhao commended in his councilroom. surrounded by red--the soldiers’ uniforms, his own uniform, zhao’s laughing tongue--zuko spotted the blue strip of fabric on the admiral’s desk almost immediately, a solemn violet in the fiery light. “what brings you here to the pohuai stronghold?”

“you seem stressed, admiral. i almost feel bad,” zuko commented. “i heard about you capturing the avatar. i was quite impressed. and then i heard about him escaping.” zhao’s smile withered. 

“i’d rather not dwell on it.”

“and you shouldn’t. i’m here for a deal,” zuko presented, drawing closer, much to the guards’ dislike. “it’s apparent now that capturing the avatar is proving less than possible. on our own, that is.”

“what do you suggest?”

“we’ve lost the avatar to many things. spirits--” zhao narrowed his eyes. “--skill, luck. but together, it’s a possibility, and it may be just me, but i’d rather share the avatar than have no avatar at all.”

“i have no interest in sharing the avatar whatsoever.”

“then we’ll have a duel. an agni kai,” zuko continued. leaning closer, he planted his palms on the table. “for the avatar. maybe we’ll be evenly matched this time.”

zhao stood from his chair, staring down at zuko with an indifferent purse of his lips. he stalked around in a circle until he stood between the prince and the door, and over his shoulder, zuko heard, “i may not be able to capture the avatar, but i might have more joy imprisoning you in his place.”

a quick snatch. and zuko threw his foot back, kicking a chair into zhao’s buckling knees. the guards advanced, brandishing handcuffs and chains, and zuko, ducking low, swiped the feet out from under the admiral. zhao fell flat with a grunt as zuko stuck a boot on the man’s neck. the fire soldiers halted in their steps, and zuko, with his free hand, locked the door shut on the way out. 

that is the story of zuko’s arrow-in-the-shoulder and water-tribe-necklace-in-hand incident. as for burning the stronghold down, that was just out of mercy, zuko likes to think. 

truthfully, zuko doesn’t know how to explain the deal which he presented to zhao. a lie? a motive? but, forcing zhao and his arches out of the scorched stronghold with bitter and resentful steps--that was a sight, far too sweet to miss.

“is this going to be a decision you’re gonna regret, or are you gonna think about it for another two years?” jang asks as he climbs on the top bunk, after having helped clean up after the morning shift. zuko looks up at him, scowling at the lack of privacy as he stashes the necklace back in his pocket. “if you want to see june, she’s back at the last stop. you know that.”

“i do.”

“then why haven’t you decided?” jang reaches in his drawer, grabbing a pair of socks. feng rushes inside, mumbling about his comb. “or are you afraid of getting your butt kicked again?”

“i didn’t even know the avatar has arrows,” feng calls from his bed, combing his hair. “very skilled.”

“the avatar doesn’t have arrows, i was shot by zhao’s archers,” zuko corrects. 

“shift starts in five,” kook announces. passing her by, daito, mara, and haku file in, loosening their ties and collapsing on their mattresses. before leaving, she informs, “it looks like you guys are getting the lunch rush.”

feng groans, jang yawns, and zuko stands, cuffing his sleeves as they leave the room--not before a brief altercation with kook about him serving with an arrow wound; but she relents with the words,  _ it’s not my fault if you make it worse.  _ treading down the hall, they hear the incoming lunch rush, and through the scattered conversations, zuko hears behind him, “another day of tea serving when i could be hunting the avatar. sucks.”

“shut up feng, if zuko can’t catch him, you won’t even get a mile in,” jang jokes. together, they round the corner, grab some menus, and step out onto the deck. jang spots a table in the back, and he mutters, “oh, shit.”

“what?”

iroh passes them by, a fleeting look between him and zuko. jang nudges the prince, pointing to the table of kids. “the avatar.”

  
  


“...aang, we’ve asked around a hundred times today,” sokka complained, rubbing the soles of his feet. “the blue spirit isn’t here. probably already left, i don’t know, to the other spirits.”

“aang, i’d hate to agree, but i think it’s time for a break,” katara suggests, tugging on the boy’s sleeve. overhead, appa meanders above the small town, momo just beside him. “we haven’t eaten the entire day. we should at least grab a snack--” turning the corner, the group catches sight of the docks and a certain teahouse. “--or some tea.”

“the jasmine dragon?” sokka asks. “isn’t that where lee works?”

“at least i can thank  _ him  _ for saving me,” aang sighs. “let’s go get some tea.”

on the deck, the group is directed by a timid haku towards a table in the back, where they can peer over the railing and gaze at the horizon. guarding them from the noon sun are tapestries, stretched along lines of strings connecting at the high bow of the ship. their new server, jang, leaves them menus to ponder with. 

“look, lee’s right there,” aang points at the tea server, buzzing around tables and picking up empty cups and pots. zuko stops momentarily at the carts to share a brief, and seemingly desperate, conversation with iroh. “should we say hi?”

“he looks busy,” katara comments. jang returns with a handful of three cups, once more regarding the avatar with a tense smile. “we’ll have some jasmine tea and three moon cake desserts. thanks.”

sokka, drumming his fingertips against the table as he waits for their order, watches the servers walk about. zuko stops at the table in front of them, where a couple sits raising their hands, and sokka overhears the complaint,  _ the tea is a bit cold.  _

“sorry about that, ma’am, sir, i’ll warm it up right away.” zuko takes the pot and, on his way to the tea carts, picks up an empty cup from another table. sokka watches intently as zuko stops at the carts, hovering just outside of the kitchen absentmindedly. jang, their server, grabs a pot off the cart, and while he exchanges an inaudible joke, sokka leans forward in his seat at zuko’s hand--palm flat on the bottom of the teapot--as the prince responds to the said muffled joke with a shrug. the couple, busy delving into their cake slices, smile in gratitude as zuko returns and pours the tea in a steaming stream. “all warmed up. i apologize for the inconvenience.”

“...sokka? earth to sokka? hello?” aang waves his hand in front of the boy’s face as zuko walks away, laying the teapot on the cart. the airbender follows his gaze. “what are you looking at? lee? jang just served our food--”

“lee, he--i watched him serve the tea,” sokka stutters, scratching his temples. “they said the tea was cold, he took it and just held it and when he poured it, the tea was hot.”

“if the tea was cold, he would’ve taken it to the back to warm it up,” katara states. they look over at the couple’s table, noting the steam rising from their cups. 

“no, i saw lee, he just walked to the teapots over there, stood there, and then walked back here.” aang and katara stare at him, unconvinced as they nibble on their desserts. “i’m telling the truth, guys! i think lee can firebend.”

“if lee could firebend, i think it would be obvious,” aang laughs. “right? i mean…”

“sokka, i don’t know what you’re seeing, but lee’s not a firebender,” katara says. she nudges his cup and plate. “get something in your system. we have to leave soon.”

“i know what i saw,” sokka edged, watching the prince with cautious eyes. “lee can--”

“avatar aang, i was not informed of you being here,” iroh bows, a gracious smile planted on his face. after serving a judgemental look back at jang and haku, he bows his head in greeting. “the jasmine dragon is glad to serve you once again.”

“the honor is all mine, sir,” aang nods, clasping his hands together. “your tea never gets old.”

“never gets cold, either,” sokka mumbles. katara kicks his shin from under the table. 

“may i ask where you are heading? the jasmine dragon offers passage to the next port, for all customers,” iroh suggests. “for you three, just for having the avatar on our ship, the fee would be free.” as zuko returns to the couple’s table, he lingers on the conversation between the avatar and iroh. 

sokka narrows his eyes at the eavesdropping tea server picking up empty plates from the couples’ table. “i don’t think we--”

“that would be lovely, sir,” katara smiles. “right, aang?”

“yeah, we sure could use the lift. appa needs some rest.” 

iroh nods. but zuko, from his place, can only imagine what craze is going on in his uncle’s head; that of spreading gossip and news of  _ the jasmine dragon serving the avatar! _ kind.“and so it is. once you’re finished, we can escort you to the guest rooms.” 

  
  


the rest of the crew leave the kitchen, quick on their feet, once iroh and zuko sit in their seats. it’s out of courtesy, of course; half to respect the tension, and half to avoid the tension. since the avatar’s arrival during lunch and the unexpected news of him accompanying the route to the next port, zuko hasn’t addressed the matter, but oh, they know how deeply he wants to. 

jang, closest to the door, leans against the wall, ears peeking. “you let the avatar stay on the ship,” zuko starts, staring down at his bowl of soup. iroh sips his tea. “why would you do that?”

“i’m doing it for you. you have been indecisive for two years, zuko,” iroh says. the prince grits his teeth,  _ i know _ . “but i am presenting you with another chance to decide. i’ve served you the avatar on a silver platter.”

“well, i don’t need a silver platter to decide.” zuko picks up his bowl and his spoon, dumping it in the sink. “i just need more time.”

“you were with the avatar for two days at the southern water tribe. you had him at the pohuai stronghold,” iroh lists. the prince grimaces, nails digging into his skin. “you have his friend’s necklace that you can easily track. and i have him here, on this ship, for the next two days. the avatar or no avatar. you can’t stall any longer. are you going to take him or not?”

silence. zuko stands over the sink, over his empty bowl and his metal spoon; iroh sits at the table, staring at the boy. the silence is patient and biding, because zuko is thinking it over once more--the avatar, the joy, home, mother, father. through all the thoughts, zuko wonders which one he’s hesitating against: going home, to his father, or sparing the avatar, to never return. he wonders what change made him consider sparing aang, because he knows that so long ago, he never considered that as a choice. 

“if you’re waiting for me to tell you what to do, expect nothing from me.” iroh, after another sip, stands with his tea and, passing jang, feng, mara, and kook by, he stalks down the hall, retiring to his room. “go to sleep, kids.”

within a beat, zuko bursts through that same door, darting down the other way, with the gritted comment, “clear out, guys.”

  
  


the avatar sleeps too deeply. that is apparent when zuko cracks the guest door open, which, though it is the quietest of all the doors throughout the ship, still squeaks quite soundly. through the sliver of light that invades the room, zuko watches the avatar’s backside rise up and down in a series of deep, deep breaths, accompanied by light snores from the water tribe boy. 

_ i’ve served you the avatar on a silver platter. _ silver platter, indeed. sleeping soundly, too. but, refusing a step inside, zuko shuts the door with another creak, shoves his hands in his pockets, and walks back down the hallway, up the stairs and out onto the deck. the night air sticks to his skin; its own breath a cold, startling rush. zuko stops at the railing, propping his arms flat across. the waters are a deep blue, the moon a yellow crescent in the thick clouds, and zuko leans towards the saltwater smell.  _ more time to think. again _ . 

oftentimes at night zuko visits the outer deck, to ponder all the stars, the height of the moon, the pull of the waves; to wonder if, that very same night, he could see the same view from the fire palace, if he’s seen it all before to know well. 

throughout the past two weeks he’d heard the same advice enough to cite it well.  _ the avatar or no avatar. home or no home. honor or-- _ he sighs. through iroh’s vague advice, feng’s snide comments, jang’s brutal criticism, and kook dumbing it all down for him, he still takes the time to think it over. what he’s got to gain, and what everyone else has to lose; what iroh will think, what father will say. 

in the fire nation he was taught of victory: triumphing over opposition, the act of beating in compliance, and the proposition of conquest. ozai once took zuko to the outlying regions outside the fire nation, and, through the wide frames of his bodyguards, he had gazed and scrutinized the kids running barefoot, the parents working the streets in sweat, the patrol talking down at skittish thieving boys. and ozai raised his head high, speaking down at zuko, “these people live in free responsibility, zuko. no other nations aim to claim them. and look what they do when left to themselves.”

zuko looked up, finding the upper levels of the town all staring down at him; an old man with a smoke, a young woman wringing out her wet clothes, a child with a cold. ozai continued, “what these people need is not food, money, or roads. they need order. peace. control.” zuko nodded along, eager to agree. “the earth kingdom is far too stretched out. many of their cities live in this horrible state already. the king can’t handle it. the air nomads took no responsibility and isolated themselves to be content with themselves. with no aid to us. the water tribes are too divided to cooperate, and their gentle and weak ways collapse easily to retaliation.”

ozai planted a palm on zuko’s shoulder, and the boy relished in the touch. “these people need us.” the moment was shortlived as ozai took his hand back, hiding it beneath his coat. “the entire world needs us. my father and his father before him took this initiative. they knew this. you know this now. the other nations criticize us, because they are afraid of the courage we have to take responsibility for their pain, their suffering.” the future fire lord peeked an expectant gaze down at his son. “when you become firelord, you will face this as well. but change takes time. people are stubborn. and perhaps, when you are firelord, this region will have already descended into order, and the people will be content enough to thank you.”

the visit to the outlying region lasted less than an hour, but zuko had understood. he had known. in that time, he’d believed in the purpose of the fire nation, to bring about order no matter the cost, no matter the opposition, and to burn through the resistance in a triumphant haze. he believed he was ready for that, too--from the words  _ when you are firelord _ to the mission  _ to restore your honor, you must capture the avatar _ . 

shortly after that visit, azula was born, and, proving her character, zuko was no longer brought on visits to the outlying regions. but no matter. zuko had plenty of his own visits, scouring through those outlying regions himself. he walked through those lands, just like before, though bearing his scar for his own resistance. what was there to think now? what was there to make of it besides,  _ when will things change?  _ what if--

he stands upright, abruptly, turning towards the town. through the lack of moonlight, zuko peers into the shadows, marching over to the other side of the deck. he had heard it.  _ glass _ . crunching in the dark, shattering apart. the commotion continues, and zuko, preferring more peace, slips off the ship and onto the docks in a gentle, silent manner. he follows the sounds, crouching in the dark and keeping his steps light. 

“...you got it all? you sure?” zuko rounds the corner, reaching a wide street. far before him, at a closed and dark shop, stand three masked men, crunching the glass with their heavy steps. another two run out of the shop, heaving bags over their shoulder. one man, in the middle, sorts through the money from the broken glass vase, announcing to the group, “we got lucky tonight.”

“stop.” zuko feels it rip out of his throat, in a quiet, gruff demand. 

“better go home, boy,” a mask calls, the other four snickering along. “don’t bother.”

zuko stands his ground. oftentimes he faced such men like these; their taunts, their laughs, their sneaky hands. and, oftentimes, he turned away from such a scene. but whether it be the arrow in his shoulder or the avatar on his ship, he steps forward, daringly. “i will.”

the five men laugh, chortling as the banished prince advances, but, squaring their shoulders, they drop the goods on the pavement and taunt,  _ come on, boy.  _ and zuko runs, widening his steps and watching wildly in the soft moonlight. 

one masked man approaches, easing forward in a lazy raise of his arms. and the prince stops, grabbing the loose frame of the man’s arms, before heaving him down to match knee to abdomen. the man grunts and zuko throws him, hard, to the pavement. the second mask approaches, a shard of glass in hand, and zuko twists forward, driving his folded elbow in the man’s shoulder, the collision slipping the glass out of his hand. zuko takes him by his gasping form, kneeing another abdomen, and lets the man fall off to the side. through it all he keeps his left arm close and guarded, his wound still stinging in the dark. 

the three remaining thieves run off down the street, hands full of money and bags, and zuko follows them, grunting as he advances on their heels. they veer into a dark alley, shielded by the moonlight, and as he approaches, he spots the money and bags on the ground and, glinting fleetingly, the knives awaiting in their hands. 

“if you run off now and don’t tell anyone, we won’t hurt you,” the closest man says. “hell, we’ll give you a share too.”

“what the hell, jiro?” the man beside him complains. “i th—“

“damnit, noro, you’re not supposed to say our names,” the third man grumbles. and then, at himself, “oh, shit.”

“everybody shut up!” jiro yells, jerking his knife at zuko. “just get the boy!”

all three pounce at once, and zuko squints at the three blurring knives darting towards him. he steps back, and then another, and propels himself up in the air. his other foot kicking up off the wall, he flips, midair, to land directly behind the three. 

“where’d he go?”

a flicker of light. and then, gnawing at them, the spark explodes into a fiery blast, hissing into their palms and leaping towards their faces. they drop the knives, leap over the bags and run in a flurry of panic, and before long the flames dissipate. zuko steps out of the alley, gathering the bags and money in his arms to carry back to the store. 

in the ringing silence zuko unties the bags, restocks it on the shelves, leaves the money on the counter, and scoots the glass to the edge of the street with his feet. and, after all that, zuko done and alone, aang decides to speak. “you’re a firebender.”

zuko jerks back, nearly onto the pile of glass.  _ shit, the avatar.  _ “what are you doing here?”

“i was going to help you. but you handled it yourself.” aang steps forward, hands planted together as he takes a bow. “it’s nice to meet a firebender that doesn’t wanna kill me.” and zuko stands, looking down silently. “and it’s not common to meet one as good as you, lee.” the avatar rises, and, with a bold breath, he says, “i want you to teach me firebending.”

the words fall slow, for some reason, and zuko processes them just the same— _ slow.  _ the avatar, bowing before him, complimenting his bending, and asking for lessons.  _ i’m handing you the avatar on a silver platter.  _ aang beams a smile, bright in the moonlight. 

and zuko decides. for once. no teaching the avatar firebending. might as well save his own skin. “no. i-i don’t know what you’re talking about, i’m just a tea server.”

“a server who can firebend,” aang adds. “sokka saw you warm up the tea earlier. i didn’t believe it, but, well, now i do.”

“i-i don’t firebend, avatar.” zuko insists. he wrings his hands together. of course the nonbender saw. “please, leave me alone.”

“but i—“

“aang!” the airbender turns, finding the water tribe siblings running towards him. “there you are! what happened here?”

“oh, it was amazing! lee was just—“ aang turns back around, pointing at lee, to find the tea server gone. “oh. i guess he left.”

“come on, let’s go inside,” katara instructs, pulling aang by his sleeve. “it’s cold out. and really, really dark.”

  
  


“...i knew it, i knew he was a firebender,” sokka whispers fiercely, clenching his first tight. in all other situations, he would’ve declared it to the skies, but in this one, such a loud announcement would kick them off the ship. in a sigh of relief, he sits back on his bed, triumphant smile wide and sure. “and you told me i was wrong.”

“yeah, sure sokka, but all that aside, lee’s a firebender. he could be working for the fire nation,” katara whispers. at that, sokka sits upright, his smile twisting. “think about it. his uncle invited you on the ship. they might be taking us to the fire nation right now.”

“no, lee’s a good person,” aang assures. against the siblings’ doubtful expressions, he adds, “he saved us from zhao, remember?”

“ _ we _ saved you from zhao  _ and  _ that zuko guy,” sokka corrects. “lee tried to stop him, but it was a big fail.”

“still, lee tried, and he made a choice to defy the fire nation,” aang persists. “he chose to side with me. doesn’t that mean something?”

“maybe zhao got mad and punished him for doing that.” sokka shrugs. “maybe that’s why lee wants to turn you in, for revenge.”

“no, we know lee, he served us tea.” aang shakes his head. “a-and i saw him stop those robbers from running off with the money. he even put it back in the store.”

“aang, as much as we want to believe that lee’s a good guy—and we do, we want to believe,” katara reassures, her brother reluctant to agree. “its just...all the other firebenders we’ve come across aren’t so good. zhao tried to kidnap you and imprison you. that zuko prince is still chasing you. lee could be no different from the rest.”

“if it’s true, that every other firebender is bad, then how am i supposed to learn firebending?” aang asks. “this could be my one chance to get a teacher. i might never see lee again after this.”

“you still have to master the other elements,” katara reminds. “you haven’t mastered earth yet.”

“yeah, but i haven’t found an earth bending teacher. i have a firebender right here!”

katara crosses her arms, glancing at aang with distrustful eyes. “i just don’t like the vibe i get off him. why would a servant need to hide his firebending?”

  
  


“aang, we’ve been sitting here for three hours,” katara informs, clinking her four empty cups and her two emtpy plates together; a bladder full of tea and a stomach of moon cakes. “i don’t think lee is working right now.”

“whatever, might as well keep ‘em coming,” sokka mumbles, his chin pressed into his arm as his other hand works a spoonful of rice into his mouth. “its all free anyway.”

“it might not be free when jang tells us we’ve been here too long and ordering too much,” katara warns. as aang avoids her gaze, too busy keeping eyes peeled for the firebender, she sighs and stands up. “i’m going to the bathroom.”

“count me in.” sokka follows her through the minuscule lunch rush—with the jasmine dragon now on route to the next port, there were no new customers to pick up and feed, just those who stayed overnight on the boat. aang sits upright at the sight of zuko, all buttoned up and squinting at the sun. jang, coincidentally, and very much fortunately, is unknotting his tie while exchanging a word with zuko. and, as expected, yet extremely delighting, the banished prince-slash-tea server makes his hesitant way down to the avatar’s table. 

“i take it you’re done ordering now,” zuko says, gathering the empty plates and cups. 

“no, not at all,” aang smiles. “i’ll have to think about it, but why don’t you wait while i think?” zuko sighs and nods. “it might be a while.” another exhausted sigh, and the server sits down. “now that you’re sitting, we might as well talk.”

zuko stands. “i have other people to attend to.”

“no, please.” and zuko, grimacing, sits back down again. “please, reconsider my request. i need a firebending teacher. and you seem like the only one who’s...morally good.” zuko bites back a scoff. “i don’t have money or anything of value, but…” 

zuko raises his hand, warranting a pause. “i don’t care what you offer me. i’m not a firebender, i don’t teach.”

“please don’t lie.” aang scoots forward in his seat. “do you not like me? is that why? did i do something wrong?”

aang’s eyes wander, all solemn and guilty, and zuko surrenders. “you did nothing wrong. i just...can’t let anyone else know the truth.”

“then i won’t tell anyone.”

“still, no.” zuko picks up his tray and carries the tea pot, plates and cups. aang follows desperately, his cries dying over the chatter all over the deck. “avatar, please, sit down.” aang reaches out as the prince walks away. 

“lee, i just want to—“ the tray in his hand loses balance and, defeated, zuko lets the pot spill its cold tea over his chest. at least he can take a break now. “lee, i-i’m sorry—“

“nephew, why don’t you get cleaned up,” iroh smiles, arriving to the scene. then, with a hushed whisper, he says, “i can end it now. is that what you want?” 

the prince pats at his soaked uniform. and, with a nod, “any way you can.”

the general lets the boy pass to his room. turning to aang, he directs the avatar back to the table. “avatar aang, i see now what my ulterior plan has done to you and my nephew.”

“what ulterior plan?”

“i know you are seeking a firebender,” iroh admits. “and i thought, this might be lee’s time to interact and have fun. but he’s stubborn.” aang nods. “i know your time is valuable and so, i’ll tell you some important information. there is a great firebender hidden in the earth kingdom by the name of jeong jeong. however he lives far too inland for us to be able to bring you there. we can drop you off at the next port, and all you have to do is go to the next town over. he will teach you well, i can vouch for that.”

“really? is he a good firebender?” aang asks. “a good person?”

iroh nods. “yes. i’m great friends with him.” reaching in his sleeve, he pulls out a tile and presses it into the avatar’s palm. “give him this and tell him iroh sent you. surely he will take you in.”

aang pressed his palms together, bowing in grace. “thank you, sir.”

  
  


music night goes on. after the crew cleared the deck and set up the firewood, iroh had informed all the passengers of  _ music night _ , and, holding up a lute and a drum, asked if anyone would like to join. 

the avatar and his friends sit amongst themselves, talking of the next plan, when zuko kneels beside them. “i heard my uncle told you about jeong-jeong. he is a much better teacher than i am.”

“still a firebender,” sokka mutters. 

“i’d be much better learning from you,” aang persists. “i know you better. i trust you.”

zuko rubs at the back of his neck. “i’m sorry. i’m just not into...helping the avatar. i’d rather not get involved.”

“because you’re with the fire nation?” sokka suggests, earning a glare from aang and a jerk in the side from katara. the, looking around, he asks, “i bet your other tea-server friends are firebenders, too.”

“no, the others left a long time ago.” his crew used to be much bigger, zuko recalls. he had four fire nation soldiers that he often ordered to train with him. within the first year of his search, when zuko’s schedule was mainly tea serving and stalking through towns for rumors on the avatar in his offtime, they called the prince’s search a hopeless case, and bailed out before iroh could convince them into their tea-serving uniforms. “we’re not with the fire nation, at least i used to be.”

“and what happened?” sokka raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“i started selling tea,” zuko shrugs. 

aang scrutinizes the tea server exasperatedly. “come on, when’s the next time you’re gonna be asked to help the avatar?”

zuko looks off in the distance. “there used to be a time where i would’ve done anything to get to you.”

sokka snorts, sitting upright, “hah, sounds so intense. like that one guy—the prince, remember, aang? the one that’s been chasing us?” aang perks up in a chortle. “yeah, the-the zuko guy! with the eyepatch!”

the three of them laugh altogether, zuko sits, surprised he was even brought up in the conversation.  _ did i chase them?  _ he wonders, and spotting the laughter, jang interrupts, “did i hear a prince zuko?” smiling at said prince, jang continues, “man, that guy’s the worst. so rude. worst customer ever.”

“you served him?”

“oh, man, you could never get him to stop talking,” feng joins in. behind them, mara and haku snicker. “he’d be like, avatar this, avatar that.  _ have you seen the avatar? where is he? honor, honor! arghhh. _ right, lee?”

the laughing bunch pause to await zuko’s contribution to the conversation. but, before they can sink into his confused silence, sokka starts up again, “and what’s with the eyepatch? is he a pirate?”

“oh, that ones a touchy subject,” daito interjects with a devilish smile, and zuko withers inside. hovering over the fire’s crackle and light, he draws a tale, “rumor has it, he  _ lost  _ his eye! in a sea accident. it was a stormy day, and he was commanding the crew to follow a bright light. then, the ship turned over, and when they all came to, prince zuko had lost an eye!” the passengers and aang all gasp alike. dissatisfied, iroh nudges the boy in his shoulder before returning to his solo.

  
  


the guest door squeaks open once more. zuko peers inside and, in the sliver of light, expecting the dozing avatar, he’s met with the startlingly sleep-deprived gaze of the scowling water tribe boy. quickly, zuko shuts the door closed, backing away, but seconds later, sokka pushes through, peering up at the firebender in distaste. the guest door shuts, and out in the hall, they watch one another.

“watching the avatar, huh?” the boy edges. 

“i just wanted to check on him,” zuko says, easing himself against the wall. “nothing harmful in that.”

“i’m surprised you haven’t turned us in yet,” sokka notes, crossing his arms. “the fire nation would pay a fortune for him.”

“then why haven’t you sold him out yet?”

sokka narrows his eyes, leaning against the door. “because i know that the world depends on aang. and that whatever help he needs, he deserves it.”

“then why don’t you like me teaching him?” further down the hall, a passenger scampers from the kitchen to their guest room. 

“aang doesn’t need another fire nation boy messing with him,” sokka states. “he lost his entire people to the fire nation. my sister and i lost our parents and much of our tribe, one way or another, to the war. so you see why we don’t trust in your kind easily.”

zuko nods. “must be rough.”

in their temporary silence, zuko catches sokka reaching behind his back, slowly. it’s a failing attempt, zuko can see that, despite all sokka hopes. crossing the distance between them, zuko grabs the boy’s arm and wrestles out of his grip a machete. unscathed in disuse. sokka growls, “it’s mine.”

“i’ve never seen water tribe weapons before,” the prince comments. not that impressive, he surmises. he hands it back. “you know how to use it?”

“of course. in my sleep.”

“cool. imagine if you had a sword.”

sokka, bothered at the nonchalance in the server’s tone and approach, asks, “seriously, why haven’t you at least done something about us? you’re not turning us in, you’re not teaching aang. what’s your deal?”

another questioner. another person seeking for an answer, and so zuko sighs. “not everything is as two sided as we want it to be. if i’d met the avatar just a year ago, i wouldn't have waited a second to turn him in.”

“what about now?” sokka rests his palm on the handle of the door, and holds the machete hidden behind his other hand. and zuko can’t blame him. instead he ponders. what about honesty? his life mission, his banishment, his father’s failure. what about now, having met the avatar and wanting little to do with him but everything to gain from him?

“i’ve seen what the fire nation does to innocent people. you guys have hurt, i know. and i’ve suffered myself too. but,” he sucks in a breath. hearing pain, suffering; through it all, to zuko, it comes down to this: “i don’t know, i’m just confused.”

but sokka doesn’t take it. “if you see and feel our suffering, why don’t you want to do something about it?” here this younger boy asks, staring up at zuko with a fiery light in his eyes. and zuko stares back down, wishing for a moment of silence. “are you scared?”

_ scared. fear _ —that is new. that, he knows. and zuko feels his hand raise, the shadows of his arm falling flat on the floor. sokka scoots back, further against the metal door, but zuko’s hand reaches for his own face, for the hair covering his left side. he brushes the strands up behind his ear, and sokka clenches his jaw at the sight, eyes latching onto the reddened scar, the tired eye. “what if i am?”

sokka dips into silence. his hands fall to his sides, machete lodged in its handle. still staring at the red, zuko knows, but he looks down anyway. 

and then, the prince reaches in his back pocket. he pulls out a blue sliver, a thin fabric attached to a gem. sokka lights up as zuko hands it over. “we found this a couple towns back,” he says. “i thought it looked familiar.”

  
  


“so, you’ve decided,” iroh comments, watching the avatar and his water tribe friends step off on the docks. they turn momentarily with a small wave, each sparing a last nod towards zuko--aang, for the modesty; sokka, for the truth; and katara, for the compassion. “you let the avatar go. in doing this, you choose leaving the fire nation behind.”

it’s a grand statement. zuko takes it, bravely, swallowing the ache in his throat. “well, wait a second,” jang says, pausing in between wiping down tables. “doesn’t he have the girl’s necklace? can’t we go back to that bounty hunter, june?”

the crew awaits his response. and iroh clasps his hands together, resting them against his abdomen. zuko says, “no, not anymore.”

the banished prince steps in front of the bow, parting the sunlight with his stand. reaching up, zuko brushes his hair back behind his ear, letting his scar breathe. and iroh watches, contentedly, as zuko announces, “from now on, we will no longer be pursuing the avatar. we will no longer seek redemption from the fire nation.” kook nods, iroh smiles, feng claps. “if any of you don’t like the sound of that, you can leave.”

and zuko stands still, staring at each crew member with a soft, understanding gaze, awaiting his rejection. he got over those four soldiers jumping ship, easily, but this crew--feng’s snickers, jang’s jeers, kook’s smiles, all of it; he couldn’t seem to fathom losing. money was always a driving contender in assisting the prince. but even with the grand prize of capturing the avatar now gone, daito laughs. “as much as i want some big reward for helping you get the avatar,” he shrugs. “we all know it won’t come anyway.”

“if you’re worried about the money, don’t,” kook calls. “we’ve saved up enough to buy a whole other ship.”

and zuko smiles. lightly. he bows his head to them, “thank you.”

* * *

prince zuko has faced many attempts at kidnappings. more specifically, from the avatar and his company. 

the first time aang does so, he returns just two days after leaving the jasmine dragon. hovering above the ship on appa, he casts a wide shadow over zuko as the server pours some tea. at first, he believes its the clouds, but with kook’s worried comment  _ lee, please look up _ , he looks up. down at him, aang calls, “hey lee!”

“i thought you’re with jeong jeong,” zuko responds before, nervously, he apologizes to the family he’s serving. 

appa turns and dips just beside the ship, so that aang can meet the prince’s eyes. “i was, but let me explain! hop on!”

“no, aang.” jang takes the tea pot from zuko’s hands as the prince continues, “i told you, i can’t teach you.”

“what? i can’t hear you!”

zuko draws closer, much to the family’s inconvenience. “i said--” looking down at them, he backs away. “sorry.” he drops his tray off at the cart and directs aang towards the stern. “i said--”

aang dives at the prince, now alone on deck. in one fell swoop he knocks zuko by the legs and grabs him by the arms, pulling him onto the appa. through it all zuko yelps wildly, before grunting as he’s thrown onto the saddle. “sorry, lee, i just wanted to talk.”

“i--i told you--aang,” zuko groans. “you just kidnapped me.”

“i know.”

“i still--do you want me to be your teacher that bad?” he asks. “what happened with jeong jeong?”

aang sighs. dropping the reins, appa meanders, and aang scoots around with a sullen pout. zuko furrows his eyebrows at the sight, “what’s wrong?”

“i tried firebending when i met jeong jeong,” aang begins, staring down at his hands. “he refused to teach me, just like you did. he wanted me to master water and earth first. i didn’t listen. and because of that, i hurt katara.”

zuko nods. “that’s rough.”

aang continues, scratching at his forearms. “i was so eager for a master that i decided to learn myself. and in that moment where i had no master to watch me,” he pauses, wringing his hands together. “i felt so unrestrained, so uncareful, and at first i thought it was fun, but then i hurt my friend.” he looks up at zuko, a begging urgency in his eyes. and zuko regrets. “how do you handle bending a power that can hurt someone so badly?”

at the high altitude, the winds carry zuko carefully. refreshing, yet pulling, zuko feels the air hit his skin in a soothing, awakening caress. his hair pushes back, lifting and falling with every breath of wind. no iroh, no kook, no father. just the avatar, solemn and grim and guilty. and zuko considers nothing, nothing at all. 

he takes the avatar’s picking hands. “fire hurts. it burns.” he turns the boy’s palms to face up. “but it also burns inside you. your desire to find a teacher and master firebending is an example of that. if you let your fire burn, you risk hurting others or yourself.” 

he lets aang’s hands fall, digging his own in his pockets. “what does that mean?”

“it’s something i learned from my uncle.” a small lesson iroh taught years back, when zuko was adamant to improve and surpass azula. his father was far too busy, or so zuko was told, to teach him, and before azulon sent iroh away, the general took time to mentor the prince on his own.

“so, what do i do? how do i master firebending?”

zuko pauses. aang eagerly awaits. “the best way to keep a fire from burning is to learn to control it.” he points at the avatar’s arrow tattooed on his forehead. “but control comes from the mind first, not from your bending. i think jeong jeong was right. you have to master earth and water.” aang looks down once more, a sigh escaping him. “you don’t seem to like that.”

“no, you’re honest, lee,” aang says. “which is why, when i’m ready, i’ll only accept firebending from you.” he turns, snagging the reins, and no sooner does appa swoop back down to the ship. zuko hops off on the deck. “i’ll see you, lee.”

* * *

all zuko had wanted, since giving up on the fire nation, was peace. peace to sleep, think, breathe. to serve tea and smile and say,  _ thank you for coming here _ . no avatar to worry over, no father to fear. but of course, zhao is persistent, despite his irrelevance, and when he once more boards the jasmine dragon to enlist the retired iroh and the entirety of zuko’s crew, he also, quite suspiciously, inspects the dual broadswords peeking out beneath zuko’s bed.  _ antiques _ , zuko calls them, but zhao begs to differ. 

and no later, after all the customers clear off for the night, does zuko spot an iguana parrot out by the window, no later does he stop in his tracks, crossed between running or searching, and no later does the ship tremble from inside out, a fire eating the floorboards and sucking the air dry and throwing zuko against the wall. following the screams from the bunk room, zuko coughs and, crouching against the wall, hurries to the rest of the crew. 

“zuko! where’s zuko?” feng calls. zuko feels the door handle before swinging it open. 

“get out, get out now!” zuko shouts, wheezing between his coughs. the crew do just that, crawling out into the hall. zuko shuts the door behind them and tries to quell the fire by the stairs. hurriedly, they bust the door to the deck down and, stumbling, they collapse onto the dock covered in soot and ashes. “who else?” zuko asks, coarse. “is someone missing?”

“iroh,” kook spits out. “iroh, he--”

“zuko!” the retired general returns, jee running beside him. “what happened?”

daito covers his burning eyes. “a bomb, i don’t know--”

“it was zhao,” zuko grits, hands curled around his bruise. he glares back at the ship, the tapestries burnt, tea soiled, and the fire cackling. the silence is gone and zuko, breathing painfully without it, heaves hard at the sight of kook’s burns and feng’s limping leg and haku’s soot-filled wheezes. 

_ zhao _ . zuko clenches his fists, glaring down at their burns. and so he decides, once more. 

  
  


the first day of admiral zhao’s siege on the northern water tribe commences, and at the end of the day iroh goes below deck, to the bruised soldier awaiting. “well?” zuko asks, his voice muffled through his helmet. “has zhao told you the plan of attack?”

“have you rested, like i told you to?” iroh asks, scolding zuko as he forces the boy into a sit. “zhao told me of a way to weaken the waterbenders.”

“at night? with the full moon?”

“he knows of the physical form of the ocean and moon spirits that the water tribe protects,” iroh informs, though zuko sits confused. “these spirits maintain balance not just for waterbenders but for us all. if zhao plans to harm or rid the world of them, it could mean chaos for us all. these spirits should be your priority.”

“so, what do i do? where are the spirits?” zuko asks, pulling off his uniform helmet. 

“look for somewhere with strong spiritual presence.” not any less vague, but zuko nods along, shedding his armor and picking up his mask. “if not, then at least try to find the avatar and warn him. if those spirits are knocked out of balance, the water tribe will be defenseless and zhao will conquer them.”

“okay.” zuko stands at the edge, peeking over the ice-cold water. he wouldn’t last long. “uncle--”

“stay safe, zuko.”

he nods. “i will.”

  
  


strong spiritual presence indeed. zuko  _ sniffs _ it out in minutes, or rather, seeks it out by chance and chance alone. iroh was a strong, spiritualistic man, zuko remembers, and he recalls the drifting moments at sea where the retired general sat cross legged for hours upon hours.  _ the secret _ , he’d tell zuko,  _ is to let go of your root _ . and of course, like all words of advice iroh presented him, zuko had very little understanding of it. 

nonetheless, zuko sneaks down another hallway and another, down a shrinking one and out the end to stumble into an enclosed sanctuary, centered around a small pond with two koi fish. and, unexplainably, he can tell, staring down at them and their circling wonders, that they are the balancing spirits. looking up, he finds katara, the waterbender girl; aang, sitting on the ground; and a white-haired girl, backing away. both girls stare at him, katara in distrust and the other in fear. 

“do you know him?” yue asks timidly. then, at zuko, “hello, who are you?”

“a blue mask,” katara notes, wielding the water from her pouch. zuko breathes timidly. “you must be the blue spirit aang was talking about. the one that saved him.”

zuko nods, and makes his voice pinched. “i am a servant of the spirits. and the spirits are in danger.” he points at the two fish. “admiral zhao is leading the fire navy attack. he plans to harm these spirits.”

“no,” yue gasps. “if he does, nobody will be able to waterbend.” katara stutters in her cautious gaze. “the tribe will be defenseless. we’ll be lost.” she looks down at the meditating avatar. “aang has to wake up. he has to stop them.”

“go get sokka. we’ll need all the help we can get.” yue runs out, leaving zuko to the waterbender, who regards him less-than-friendly. 

and he can see, in her stance, her eyes, her balance, a newfound strength and tenacity. “you have a master.”

“how do you know?”

zuko pauses. and gestures to the pond. “spirits.”

“hm.” katara doesn’t take it lightly, pushing her water to surround zuko’s frame. he makes no move. “look, i don’t care if aang says you saved him before. i didn’t see it with my own eyes. don’t try anything, because right now, i’m in my element.” zuko stares down at the spirits.  _ not for long _ . 

“katara watch out!” zuko ducks, feeling the air whizz by and back again. he turns, following the boomerang back to its sender, and finds sokka at the door, guarding yue with his other arm. “it’s a blue guy!”

zuko raises his hands. “i’m here to help the avatar.” such an ironic statement, he knows. “i am a servant of the s--”

“ahh!” sokka calls, advancing with his hooked machete. he jumps high, aiming to drive his weapon in deep, but zuko unsheathes his broadswords, catching the machete in a cross. the curved weapon gets caught, and sokka grunts as he tries jerking it out. “katara, what are you doing?” 

before katara chooses to react, zuko pushes sokka back, driving his swords apart, and sweeps the boy’s feet out from under him. katara sighs. “sorry, sokka, you attacked him first.”

“he’s a threat!”

“i don’t think so anymore. right, aang?” zuko turns, moments before he’s pummeled into the snow. sokka laughs in triumph and zuko, groaning in the cold, rises to his feet before the excited avatar. 

“blue spirit! you came back!” aang takes zuko by the arm, shaking hands wildly. “i never thought i’d see you again! i never got to thank you!” zuko nods. “how did you find us? how did you know i’d be here?”

zuko picks up his boardswords and sheathes them under sokka’s watchful eyes. “the spirits are in your favor. someone is watching over you.” he bows and the avatar follows eagerly. “zhao is a strong firebender. be aware of that, or the spirits will be harmed.” at that, aang’s smile falters. “are you ready for him?”

aang looks down, kicking the snow lightly. “i-i don’t know,” he admits. “i couldn’t take out his ships earlier. and, i tried to learn firebending, but...i wasn’t ready for that. i don’t think i’ll ever be ready.”

zuko chews on his lip. the avatar stands before him, defeated, and it reminds him of just days ago, when aang snatched him up--the lack of confidence, the tainted joy that once lit up a laughing smile. zuko spared aang to keep him light, but, in the end, the world ruined that for him. he steps forward, slow to the water tribe siblings’ caution, and plants a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. 

with a small, cold breath, zuko offers this: “fire isn’t something to be ready for.” aang looks up at him, down all the same. “it is already within you.”

  
  


sokka slides into place beside the blue spirit, eyes locked on the brandished broadswords as zuko watches the door. the water tribe boy begins, “so...where does one learn some good sword skills like yourself? magical blue spirit?”

zuko bites back a sigh. such inconvenient timing. offhandedly he answers, “a good teacher. and a good sword.” 

contrary to his advice, zuko began wielding swords when traveling through the earth kingdom. the tea house was damaged during a storm, and while waiting for repairs, jang took the crew to a well-known combat tournament somewhere inland, where many prestigious swordmasters enrolled their students to test their skills. back on the ship, jee gifted him with the dual broadswords he purchased from the next town over, as a two-month belated birthday gift, just to lighten the boy up. some cheap swords, true, and iroh was far too busy jumpstarting the traveling tea business to teach. his source of lessons--a pamphlet feng gifted him with, with inked drawings of poses and vague advice to follow.

“yeah, i wish i had either of those,” sokka mumbles, but heads back to yue. zuko keeps that in mind; perhaps the misplaced pamphlet under his mattress could be of use once more.

now alone, zuko sheathes his broadswords, heading out for the door. “i must leave,” he tells aang. “i believe in you, avatar. protect the spirits.”

“is he dipping out on us?”

“blue spirit, no!” aang calls. but the cries fall short and the attention spurs suddenly, because, on the other side of the oasis, zhao kicks down the door. 

  
  


the fight over the koi fish, beginning with zhao, is decidedly one-sided. but not long into the battle, the other firebenders enter, surrounding the pond on all sides. yue, standing by the pond, calls out to aang, “aang! there’s too many!”

aang darts around wildly, knocking out soldiers left and right, but through the crowd he can spot the incoming hoard of fire soldiers trampling the broken down wall of snow. katara growls, sokka yelps, and zhao laughs. 

and then, almost miraculously, the other wall crumbles down, and on the sloping snow, prince zuko--eyepatch worn bravely--slides down with a demanding call, “the avatar is mine!” 

advancing towards the pond, he leaps high into the air, foot swinging, and in a blinding orange blast, the front line of soldiers fall back. the fire quickly fades, its light burnt out. zhao stumbles at the prince’s interest, cursing wildly, and the two enter in a fist to fist fight in the blithering snow. the admiral pants, tired out from pummeling the avatar, and zuko steps back, breathing hard from the large blast. 

“you little brat!” zhao shouts, cutting the prince at the cheek with a swing. zuko falls, and the admiral stays triumphant. standing over the prince, he digs a heel into his chest. zuko wheezes and zhao grits, “i have you and the avatar in the palm of my hands. and just for you,” he heaves, lifting his foot and kneeling in its place. “i’ll kill the avatar and burn the other eye. the last thing you’ll ever see will be me, stealing your victory.”

zuko sucks in a breath, biting back the pain. feeling the air settle warm within his chest, he fights zhao’s weight, rising with a shout and swinging his arm in a blazing haze. he rips a gash through zhao’s cheek, offputting the admiral’s weight and forcing zhao into a tumble through the snow. zuko crawls to his feet, sucking in the cold air and relishing in the rising warmth.  _ break his root.  _ zhao stays on his back, hands smothered in the snow.  _ your inner fire. breathe.  _

offering no words, zuko advances, a sliver of fire encasing his bruised knuckles. zhao scoots back hurriedly, sinking deeper into the freezing snow. “wait--stop, we’re helping each other, remember?” the admiral stutters, lips cracking to the cold. “this is the way to get the avatar. this is our deal, remember? we help each other. just one hit, that’s all it takes.” he offers a shaking hand, panting feverishly. “this is how you restore your honor.”

and zuko stops, fire ceasing, his breaths a slow, awaiting current. the warmth inside him grows hot and heavy, an unrestrained anger.  _ the avatar.  _ “no,” he says. he raises his arm, palm facing zhao. “this is how.”

the blast, though weak, burns the admiral nonetheless. zuko’s hands seize midway, the cold biting at his fingertips. zhao, knocked back by the blast, tumbles through the snow once more. but as zuko catches his breath and rubs his aching hand, zhao stares gleefully at the pond--a clear, direct shot, with no prince standing in his way. reeling back an arm, zhao heaves one last shot, ripping through a scream as the warmth escapes his arm and the cold seeps in. 

“no!” the fireball darts fast, towards the pond, and they all watch as yue, shielding the pond, turns frigidly to meet the orange and red with a biting cry. sokka yells and iroh catches the princess, all the while aang sinks into a vicious rage.

“zuko, the avatar!” but it’s too late. caught in the wind, zuko is pulled wildly by the avatar’s anger, just as zhao is, just as sokka is, just as everyone else is; the cold grows and aang digs higher, clawing at the snow with his bursts of wind. 

and the avatar glares down at zhao, eyes glowing as bright as moonlight, and seethes out a menacing sneer. just one word, but deep and grueling; a haunting strike of the wind, “you.”

the avatar sinks with a vengeful gaze, and as the tip of his foot reaches the pond, the water glows white, snaking around his body and encasing him in a shimmering glow of light. the water grows, pulling from the snow and the air around them, dragging the ground from under the fire soldiers’ feet. zuko trips, falling onto his back as well. 

“you’re just a boy! i am a conqueror!” zhao screams up at the blue light. “you are nothing. i am--ahh!” the snow beneath him melts down and lifts him high in the air. zhao yells, aang sneers, and the light between them grows in a truthful harmony. 

the siege on the northern water tribe fails horribly, the avatar wiping all firebenders from the city. zhao, much to zuko’s relief, is taken by the spirits as a token of his failed courage, and yue, now in sokka’s arms, has her wound healed by katara. and when all is said and done, zuko stands before the avatar, the prince of the fire nation, in his true honesty. aang stares at him, offering no remorse or compassion. 

and so zuko says, taking iroh’s arm, “i know my chances when i see them.” he nods at the indifferent airbender, his waterbender friend, sokka, and the wounded princess yue. “you’re lucky, avatar. someone is truly watching over you.” 

as they are about to leave, sokka pulls forward, saying, “wait a minute! aren’t you the nice old man who sells us tea?”

the two firebenders freeze in place. iroh, turning slow, stares desperately at zuko before suggesting to the avatar, “oh, you must be talking about my twin brother. he likes tea.”

  
  


“somebody, please, close the curtains,” feng groans, kicking his free leg about as he drapes a dramatic hand over his eyes. 

“the curtains are closed,” mara mutters. 

“oh,” feng turns over, staring at the prince on the neighboring bed. “must be zuko’s heavenly smile. nevermind.”

the prince scowls and jang laughs from the other side of the room. iroh and jee arrive back with two trays of tea and pudding. “the tea is distasteful,” iroh critiques, handing it to them nonetheless. “but you need the nutrients to restore your strength.”

“oh, iroh, i feel so bad about the ship,” kook says from her bed, peeking out from beneath her bandages. “i heard something that night, but i ignored it, and--”

“no one except zhao should be blamed for what happened,” zuko interrupts, scowling at his bandaged arm. “and the avatar’s taken care of him for us, so no dwelling on what we lost.”

“wise words, prince,” jang commends, though sarcastic. “so, what now? we don’t exactly have a teahouse to return to.”

jee smiles. “i wanted to tell you all once zuko and iroh came back,” he says, catching their attention. reaching into his satchel he fishes out a wide envelope. “after the fire was put out, the workers recovered some of the remaining parts of the ship from the water. amongst other things, they found a small safe, blast resistant and waterproof, that had this.” throwing it on feng’s bedside table, the engineer peeks inside and utters a short  _ holy shit _ . “apparently, someone’s been saving.”

“who?” kook asks. “jang? iroh?” both shake their heads. 

jee smiles. “zuko.”


	2. earth

_azula always lies. right?_ that is what zuko thinks as azula steps off the new and improved jasmine dragon, as she climbs onto her own ship thereafter. the crew and the impending lunch rush altogether stare, in fear or in distrust, at the fire navy ship passing them in the harbor. iroh departs a grim look at the ship, before turning to inform the new customers of their new tea flavors. 

it took just a month to buy a decommissioned earth kingdom ship off a retired serviceman. although it was smaller than their fire nation warship, they made do, especially with the second upper deck that offered more space for dining. through a few weeks of remodeling and revamping, the ship was brighter, livelier, and grander than before. instead of a black, towering, intimidating frame, the ship was a deep brown hue, with gold ink spelling out _the jasmine dragon_ on the side and on the many banners lining the edges. new tapestries, new porcelain dishware, new tea flavors; many relished in the comeback of the traveling teahouse. and so, as expected, business flowed in like a fast current. 

and zuko was content; finally spending all the money he’d saved up in the fire nation and during his banishment, helping feng and mara design the travelers’ quarters, testing out iroh’s new mixes with the crew, going out with daito to find baking supplies for the older man’s new pastries--those were the busy first weeks of business and remodeling but, as it all quelled down to serving and pouring tea, he grew restless once more. but he chose no avatar. isn’t this peace what he expected? what he wanted?

_azula always lies_. the reminder of home, and that, somewhere back west, there was a palace all groomed for him, settled uneasily for him. “father regrets your banishment. he wants you home, zuko. it doesn’t matter if you don’t have the avatar. come home, zuko.”

he knows it’s not true. better yet, he wishes. but the fire palace isn’t what strikes zuko. it’s not the uncaring concern, the _we miss you, zuko_ ; it’s the truthful childhood he grew up in, the absence of his mother, the secret only his father keeps. _never forget who you are._

those last words. zuko recalls them dreadfully, never knowing what it would mean for her, never understanding when she never returned. and so its a silent understanding in the shared room between him and all the crew, watching from their bunk beds, as he stares down at the gold string. once tied and entangled within his mother’s hair, he’d used it time and time again to tie his own. 

“we won’t judge if you go back with your sister,” kook assures. “we know why.”

“don’t worry about leaving us either,” jang adds. and a laugh, “at least we don’t have to pull your weight around.” 

“shut up, jang, you’ll be sad he can’t steal your shifts,” mara cuts in, snickering from her bottom bunk. she exchanges a high-five with kook from above. 

“i won’t be gone long,” zuko decides. pulling the gold string, he wraps his hair in it, high and tight. “i’ll come back here.”

“great, now we get to see zuko’s hot mom.” with a disgusted grunt, zuko and the others bombard feng with their pillows. 

  
  


and, true to his word, zuko and iroh return soon enough, and with a new haircut alright. together they stick to the railing, watching azula’s warship depart into the horizon with grim faces. kook approaches with two cups of tea, and they take it, silently. 

earlier, the jasmine dragon had left the port to their next stop, leaving zuko and iroh as they followed azula and her henchmen to the warship. no sooner, zuko and iroh took off, escaping azula’s shouts to _get the prisoners!_ at the river, they severed their top knots and, catching a small ship to the next port, they returned to the jasmine dragon in silence. 

“wanna try?” daito asks, presenting two plates of the biscuits he learned to bake the other day. “it has hazelnut.” and zuko sighs, because of course daito knows their favorite. 

as the sun sets for the evening, the jasmine dragon sets off for the next stop. 

  
  


on his fourteenth birthday zuko was homesick, he recalls all too well. his soldiers had abandoned ship not too long ago, sick of waiting and watching tea serving, and he had grown smothered of the common life; of pulling down his hair, calling himself _lee_ , treading around towns and garnering no respect from any passersby. and, zuko recalls, he’d grown tired, so much so that iroh could no nothing to fix it. “it just takes time,” iroh repeated. “your impatience misguides you. we have yet to--”

“ _i_ have yet to find the avatar!” the prince erupted that night on the empty deck. and iroh had stood still, grown numb to his fits. but zuko, dissatisfied, took another step, “because you continue to misguide me. with your tea serving, your--everything, everything here!” he raised his arms to the tapestries, the porcelain cups, the green rugs. “i can’t be here anymore! i should be at home!”

“and you will be, if you--”

“i would be, if you didn’t let me in!” the shout drives deep, and iroh steps back, faltering in his approach, because he knows. “you let me in there and you let me speak.” and the shouts dwindle down, still seething and spitting, “you _burnt_ me. you sent me away.”

and iroh had stood still, meeting the boy’s shining eyes with his own shame. the guilt, lining his frown, his solemn stand. and zuko, never satisfied, retreated below deck, to grab a bag, grab his clothes, grab his belongings. the jasmine dragon, accustomed to avoiding the fire nation patrol, was ordered otherwise by the angered prince. 

that is how zuko went home for his fourteenth birthday. iroh, complying, had stopped the ship by the patrol, allowing the soldiers to step on, and as the commander relayed a snide remark about the prince abandoning ship, zuko had snuck into the fire nation, against all cause to keep him away. after nearly two weeks of eating scraps, avoiding soldiers, and hiding out amongst peasants and commoners, all forgetting his name, he’d reached the eve of his birthday, and with it, the palace. 

from as far as he could reach, he could see--his mother, still missing; the turtle ducks in the pond, uncared for; azula on the training grounds, training her electric fire; and his father, walking about, paying no mind. no wife there to bother him, no son to disappoint him, and zuko, stopping before the door, stepped away. 

he met the teahouse at their next stop, where iroh ordered them to wait despite the prince’s past orders. he climbed aboard, clothes tattered, hair unkempt, and his eyes downcast, and as the tea servers, all reluctant, kept their distance, he looked up, finding iroh’s eyes once more. pushing past exhaustion, he ran forward, arms outstretched, and against all thoughts--iroh’s, included--he held on, pulling his uncle in close. “zuko?” the man had asked. “you’re back.”

“i’m sorry,” came rushing out, despite his instincts. but the warmth was enough, just as zuko had wished for, and so he stayed put, letting iroh wrap his arms around him. “it’s not your fault.”

“it’s not yours, either.”

“how can you forgive me?” the prince asks, wavering in his hold. “i hurt you. i abandoned you. i thought you’d be furious with me.”

“i was never angry with you,” iroh responded, letting go, and moved his hands from the boy’s shoulders to his cheeks, settling gentle on the boy’s skin. “i was sad, because i was afraid you lost your way.”

“but i did lose my way.” the warmth hovered above his left cheek, and he looked aside, away from the idea of his father’s face, seething down at him. “i lost my place.”

“there is no place for you to lose,” iroh insists. and the touch, just the same, was warm, just enough, and never painful. “you saw that. and you came back,” his uncle broke into a smile, and zuko willed himself to do the same. “and i am so happy you found your way here.”

  
  


“aang, what are we doing here?” katara asks. “we’re just--oh, hey, it’s lee.”

“lee, again?” sokka groans. “aang, we just got toph, so--”

“what are we doing where?”

“guys, hold on,” aang urges, and the three of them quiet down. slowly, appa descends, dipping to the side of the refined jasmine dragon as aang scouts out a certain firebender. “where is he?”

“lee? he’s over there.” sokka points to the upper deck where zuko and jang stand, serving to two tables. “did he get a haircut? i feel like he got a haircut.”

zuko, with his free hand, rubs the back of his neck. the wind up against his scalp is a foreign feeling, but jee insisted on the undercut, saying the shabby self-performed haircut was an eyesore. although he wanted to wait a day or two before serving to let it grow in, iroh was insistent, with business booming nowadays. the news article praising their brand from the other stop certainly attracted more customers. 

a shadow looms over him and jang, feeling vaguely familiar. zuko’s customers point up at another supposed tourist attraction, and before zuko can set down his tray and look for himself, a rope snags around his waist and jerks him up. “jang! jang!”

said tea server simply plucks the tray out from zuko’s hands, waving goodbye with his free hand as zuko, to the customers’ amazement and shock, ascends and falls onto appa’s saddle. “lee!” aang cheers. “so glad you’re here! nice haircut, too!”

“who’s lee?” toph asks, moving over as katara scoots for space. 

“who’re you? aang, why do you always--”

“lee, this is toph, my earthbending teacher,” aang introduces. now high in the air, he lets go of the reins and turns to face lee with a smile. “and toph, this is lee, who _will_ be my firebending teacher soon, but for now he serves tea on the jasmine dragon.”

“ _the_ jasmine dragon? the one that sells the premium jasmine tea?” toph sits upright. “that’s my favorite.”

“toph, how do you know the jasmine dragon? they’re a traveling teahouse on a _ship_ ,” katara asks. then, for more clarification, “on _water_.”

“uh, we do delivery, too,” zuko informs. it was feng’s idea, out of the blue, that places inland would be more willing to buy tea they don’t have easy access to. _they like the imported stuff_ , he’d said. _makes them feel rich._ “sometimes we sell large boxes of tea for merchants to sell inland.” katara shrugs, noting the fun fact. “so, why am i here? again?”

“again?” sokka narrows his eyes at aang. “have you kidnapped lee before? without us?”

“yeah, just once,” aang shares a sheepish smile. “anyways, lee, we haven’t talked in a while so i figured we should catch up. what’s going on with you? with the new haircut?”

“i bet somebody broke his heart, that’s all,” sokka jokes. 

“no, it’s just…” zuko thinks hard. “well, the ship blew up, we bought a new one, my sister came over and tried to arrest me, and i got my hair cut.” katara, aang, and sokka stare incredulously at the firebender, trying to connect all the points together, while toph throws rocks in the air below carelessly. “and now we sell biscuits.”

“that sounds interesting,” toph comments. “aang, tell him what we did.”

“well, general fong tried to kill katara to get me to go in the avatar state. i got really mad about that,” aang scratches the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “then we went in a labyrinth in the mountain,” over zuko’s shoulder, aang chuckles lightly at katara’s flushed face. “and then we snuck into omashu and pretended to spread pentapox to get everyone to leave, and i talked with king bumi, and then i went in a swamp, and then i met toph at an earthbending tournament, and then i thought about telling you all this, so we went to you!”

zuko stares back, his own moment of disbelief, but nods in the end. “that’s cool.”

finishing the conversation, aang directs appa back down to the ship where, again, to the customers’ amazement, zuko jumps down onto the upper deck, waving goodbye alongside jang. aang waves back, departing with the goodbye, “see you later!”

  
  


“you know, i was expecting the beautiful town that has the nice red carpets,” daito starts, stepping off the ship. “but what are those? tire marks?”

“whatever _tire marks_ those are, it must be a big truck,” feng points out, jumping on the docks behind him. zuko follows just behind, squinting hard at said marks. lining the fields just beside the town and continuing off into the mountainside, are some deep grooves, big enough to warrant certain suspicion. the three boys set down their boxes of tea to display for the merchant. “well, here ya go sir, three boxes.”

“thank you, yes, here’s your money.” the merchant wipes the sweat from his forehead with a cloth and, after signing the receipt, hands feng the money in an envelope. he heaves the three boxes into his cart and jerks a thumb at the marks. “oh yeah, some big machine truck wheeled in a few hours ago. it stopped here, some people came and asked about the avatar, and went off that way.”

the three boys exchange a look. more ominous news of the avatar, as per usual. zuko asks, “mind telling us who these people were?”

“uhh, just three girls,” the merchant replies, wiping his forehead once more. a hot day. “uhh, a tall one with bangs, a young one with braids, and another one with them, too. fire nation, probably.”

as the merchant departs, wheeling the tea down the docks, the three boys linger for one last gander before kook peeks over the railing to pick up the receipt. back on the main deck, the evening rush is quiet and peaceful, concerning only those seeking passage to the next town over. zuko, however, has bigger plans, and informs iroh in the kitchen. 

“azula? the avatar?” iroh shakes his head. “it’s not a surprise.”

“what does that mean?”

“i’m guessing the fire nation is taking notice of your lack of effort to capture the avatar,” iroh states. after steeping his own tea, he pours it into six cups. “now with zhao out of the race, someone needs to take the lead. azula might use this to prove herself worthy of becoming fire lord. as well as to keep you banished.” iroh carries the cups on a tray, placing one down in front of zuko. he grabs one for himself and leaves the rest on the counter. 

“well, i have to do something, then,” zuko decides, blowing at his tea. “come with me, we’ll stop azula before she can get to the avatar. she can’t be too far long.”

“you want to do something?” iroh repeats, taking a seat. “i thought you wanted nothing to do with the avatar.” 

“i don’t wanna teach him firebending, but i don’t want him to die if i can do something about it,” zuko protests. iroh sips his tea. “much less to azula. i know you think i should be nice to her, because she’s my sister, but--”

“no, azula crazy and she needs to go down,” iroh insists with a strict fist. then, he infers, “so, this is about her? her lying?” 

zuko cocks his head. “i did it with zhao, i’ll do it again with her.”

“sabotage,” jang calls from the hallway. “i like it.”

  
  


“i still don’t understand why you brought the tea,” zuko criticizes, standing over the two of them. iroh shrugs and toph sips her favorite, the premium jasmine. 

“tea brings people together. besides, it became really convenient just now,” iroh points out, offering a third cup to zuko. said firebender huffs stubbornly. “anyways, you seem a little too young to travel on your own.”

“you seem a little too old,” toph responds. “you two probably think i can’t handle being alone.”

zuko, rubbing his bottom from the bruise he earned for sneaking up on her, shakes his head. pondering a second thought, he voices out loud, “no. we didn’t think that.”

“no, we did not,” iroh agrees. 

“you wouldn’t even let me pour my own tea,” toph complains, laying on her back in contempt. 

“i poured your tea because i wanted to, and for no other reason,” iroh replies. 

zuko takes a seat, fiddling with his cup. “what’re you doing alone, anyway?” then, to keep up the stranger ruse, “don’t you have some friends or something?”

toph sighs and grits her teeth. “we got in a fight. i’m training this... _boy_ and this _girl_ wanted me to help them unpack the stuff and gather food and stuff, but i told her i could do that alone for myself. she got all angry, and we were being chased by some weird fire nation girls, and then i ran away.”

zuko grumbles. _why do they always have wild stories?_ but iroh clarifies for herself, “so your friend wanted you to do some teamwork with her. but you wanted to do things alone.”

“people always look at me and think i’m weak,” toph elaborates. “they want to take care of me, but i can take care of myself, by myself.”

“sounds pretty selfish,” zuko mutters. 

toph sits upright. “what’d you say?”

“zu--nephew, you--”

“i’m just saying,” zuko edges, setting his cup down. “if you spent less time trying to prove yourself to everyone else, you can see how much they care and want to be with you.” toph broods in silence. “you think your new friends are like everyone else, that they think you’re weak. but they don’t. why else would they want you to be their teacher? they know despite your disability that you’re a master, worthy of learning from. your friend just wants you to be involved with them as much as they’re being involved with you.”

iroh sits, proud, and zuko sips his tea to hush his tongue. he recalls a time where his own crew bore the obligation to direct him with the same honesty. but, seeing toph’s downcast face, he quips, “sorry. that was uncalled for.”

“it’s okay, i deserved it,” toph admits. handing the cup back to iroh, she nods her head. “thank you for the tea. and the clarity. there’s something very familiar about you,” she notes, and zuko, behind his mask, sweats. standing to her feet, toph stretches and yawns. “but if you’ll excuse me, i have to head back and probably save my friend’s butt from the three creepy girls chasing us.” zuko scrambles to his feet immediately.

“why don’t we come with you?” iroh suggests, nudging the prince with a gracious smile. “my nephew loves socializing.”

  
  


azula smirks down at the exhausted avatar. aang didn’t quite plan for things to go so south after dropping lee back at the jasmine dragon. crossing her arms, she muses, “do you really want to fight me?”

“he won’t have to.” despite his exhaustion, aang beams weakly at the blue spirit’s arrival, greeting zuko with an excited _hello again!_ zuko nods and, brandishing his broadswords, he takes the avatar’s place before the smug azula. “stay behind me. get some rest.”

“would you like some tea?” iroh suggests, handing the boy a cup and pouring a stream. then, hushed, he speaks to his nephew, “are you sure you don’t want me to help? you can’t firebend like this.”

but the prince shakes his head, stubborn. “she can’t recognize me.” deep down, he knows better of the reasoning behind those two broadswords locked in his hands; biting back his doubt, he adds, “watch the avatar.”

standing in front of the avatar and iroh, toph and zuko take their stance, dipping their weight as azula does the same. 

“the earthbender. and some weird spirit,” azula notes, sizing the two up. peeking behind them, she asks iroh, “not looking to fight, are you, iroh? oh, i know,” she covers her mouth, gasping mockingly. “you’re not looking for zuko. you’re trying to stop me, so zuko can get the avatar before me.”

“iroh?” aang questions. he backs out of the man’s touch. “how do you know zuko? are you really after me to help him?”

“no, no, avatar, trust in me,” iroh advises, whispering low. zuko pays a quick glance back at the two. “zuko is...one of my nephews. remember? you saw him with my twin brother.” toph looks back as well, and zuko notices, a bit too cautiously. “i have no intention of hurting you, avatar.”

“i’d like to cut the chit-chat,” azula complains, stretching her arms. reeling an arm back, she twists forward, throwing a blue blast towards the earthbender. zuko rushes forward, crossing his broadswords upon impact, and shields the both of them from the blue flames. he draws his hands back worryingly, wincing at the burns lining his knuckles, and stumbles a short step back onto his left. azula notices and zuko, beneath his mask, huffs hard. 

“if you distract her, i can make her slip up,” toph suggests silently. “i don’t have a plan after that.”

“we’ll just have to busy her until your other friends come,” zuko responds. following along, he charges forward, swords hissing in the air, and azula’s grin widens. firing shot after shot, her blue arrows narrowly line his left path, teasing his hesitance. nearing closer, he drives with his right sword, under which she ducks. she grabs his left arm, jerking it forward and, as she expects, he winces. his right broadsword falls from his hand as he instinctively reaches for his aching scar. she pulls him around by his left teasingly, before raising her knee and flipping him down onto the ground, face--or, for better word, mask--in the dirt. 

“sad. i expected more from you, friend of the avatar,” azula remarks, stepping on his left shoulder and digging her boot into the suspected wound. with his arm still in her hand, her sinking fingertips glow blue, and the flames pinch and scratch at his skin. zuko clenches his teeth, heating up at the pain, but he quiets himself, just waiting for toph’s plan to work. 

and it does. with one foot propped on zuko’s back, azula’s other foot sinks deep into the ground. as she pulls her arms forward, preparing for another blue charge, toph, twisting and directing with a sway of her hands, encases azula’s arms in the ground as well. zuko slides out and onto his feet, picking up his broadswords and rubbing his throbbing shoulder. iroh pulls the boy back.

“why don’t you rest, spirit.” and zuko does just that, groaning into a seat beside the avatar. 

“i’m glad you’re here again, blue spirit,” aang sighs. “but i guess i’ll always be indebted to you. thank you.”

zuko nods. “i’m always here.” aang stares silently. “with the spirits.” and the avatar nods along. watching aang itch, he reminds, “you can’t fight yet. just rest.”

“i don’t think i can,” aang confesses. “not while my friends are protecting me. i should be protecting them.”

“you’ll be able to help them when you’ve rested,” zuko insists. “besides, your other friends are here, too.” gesturing behind them, katara and sokka arrive, worrying first over aang and, next, toph. aang rubs his eyes, pulling himself to stand. “are you sure you want to fight?”

aang yawns, but readies himself into an awaiting stance. “as long as i’ve got my friends with me, i think we’ll be fine.” after another yawn, he leaves zuko with, “i think you should rest though, blue spirit. you’ve helped me out a ton.”

zuko obliges, letting his shoulder and pinching forearm rest--the old wound, though mostly healed enough for him to fight, still stings and aches constantly--but moments later, he jumps at the cold touch of water on his skin. katara smiles wearily, hands slow in her approach. “i can heal your wound. don’t worry.” still holding his singed arm tight into himself, zuko refuses and katara adds, “either it keeps hurting or i can help. and i’d like to help.”

looking back at the fight, he finds relief in azula being bombarded--toph’s foot-snatching tricks, iroh’s fiery breaths, aang’s swings of his staff, and sokka’s boomerang. zuko relents, handing katara his arm, and closes his eyes at the light pressure of katara’s water. the hissing burns on his skin cease to a calm, and katara directs the water to snake up around his bicep, over his shoulder, and to his arrow wound’s achingly fresh scar. 

then, for a little while longer, the water lingers. “is something wrong?”

“no,” katara answers, but, after another beat, she reconsiders. “i don’t know.” focused on the water, she pulls it to his chest. “anywhere else hurt?”

“no,” the prince shakes his head. at her tired frame, he suggests, “you should go help your friends. i’m fine.”

finished with healing, katara rubs at her eyes and yawns, nodding at zuko’s quiet _thank you_ before joining in on the fight herself. zuko follows, his left arm a lightweight carrying his sword. they find azula cornered in front of the debris of a stone wall. katara takes her place beside aang while zuko squeezes in at the end beside toph. azula smiles, mocking the teamwork.

“look at all you. working together, i could cry.” after spotting iroh, she shifts her gaze down to the earthbender beside him. he takes the bait, looking down, and azula strikes in a crackle of blue, cruel light. zuko bites back a scream as the general falls and aang shouts; the prince kneels beside his uncle in a startling gasp as the others crowd azula one last time, sparking an explosion of dust and dirt that fills the air and providing the princess an escape. 

azula leaves, her smile lingering, and aang turns to the problem at hand. zuko, holding iroh’s hand, hovers over the wound with his free, shaking hand. with the mask he sits, a silently mourning spirit, but behind it the tears pool and fall, warm against his skin. katara takes charge once more, approaching with a slow, assuring hand. gently, she asks zuko to move. he does so, slowly, and sokka, aang, and toph ease in by his sides. 

“i’m sorry about iroh,” aang apologizes, rubbing at his tired eyes. “i shouldn’t have gotten him involved, i shouldn’t have let him fight for me.”

zuko lets his shaking hands fall, hiding them from sight. “no, he would’ve fought anyway.” iroh groans lightly, his hand raising with the unconscious call, _zuko_. “for your friend, lee.”

“lee? did lee send for you?” zuko nods. “how do you know lee? and iroh?”

aang and sokka await for a spiritual answer. but zuko’s thoughts stutter, and he responds, “who doesn’t know their tea?”

  
  


aang bows before iroh, and the rest of the group follow his gratitude. “thank you, sir, for offering us passage once more.” looking up at the old man, he smiles. “katara’s healing powers are amazing, how are you feeling?”

“it’s not even a day past and i feel much better!” iroh chuckles. “she is truly a master of her element.” flushed, katara bows her head with a bright smile. “now come on, you haven’t tried our new menu yet.”

“new menu?”

the avatar and co board the jasmine dragon, toph latching onto sokka’s arm, and breathe deeply at the strong wave of incense. feng directs them to a table, switching on the lamp beside them and handing them their menus. “i wonder where lee is,” sokka mumbles. “we haven’t seen him since we kidnapped him.”

“lee? oh, he’s...uh, off his shift,” feng informs. “yeah, but he’ll probably come out when he hears you guys are here. in fact, uh, lee!” feng calls, “the avatar’s here!”

zuko rushes out onto deck, fixing his collar, and passes a snickering jang by. he’d snuck onto the deck, stumbled down the hall all the while pulling off his sweatshirt and untying his mask, before diving in and out of the bunk room to grab his uniform. spotting the table, zuko greets, “oh, the avatar.” aang beams. “here to kidnap me again?”

“no, not today,” sokka jokes. “why didn’t you come with your uncle to help us?”

“oh, i--um,” zuko rubs the back of his neck. “we had an important shipment that my uncle wanted me to supervise in his place.”

“huh, it’s weird,” aang notes. “you’re iroh’s nephew, but so is prince zuko, and iroh has a twin brother. it’s like, your family is born for coincidences.”

“wait, what? you’re related to the eyepatch guy?” sokka gapes up at zuko. pointing with his fork, he asks, “are all you firebenders related?”

  
  


the jasmine dragon doesn’t know it, but the moment they let jet li step foot on their ship, they’ll learn to appreciate it, very much inadvertently. the freedom fighters climb on during lunch time, like all other customers, and at the entrance one server introduces himself, “hey. i’m lee, i’ll be serving you today.”

jet li nods at the boy. “thanks, but, we’re just looking for a room. we’re going to the next stop to catch the train to ba sing se.”

“that’s alright. if that’s all you’ll be needing for now,” zuko steps back, directing the fighters to the stairs. he opens the third door on their right, pushing it open for them to see. “i’ll have someone bring in a third mattress later.”

“thanks, lee,” jet says, shaking the boy’s hand. reaching at the server’s face, he brushes the hair on his left side behind his ear. “that’s a rough scar you got there, buddy.” zuko nods, but steps back at the sudden touch. 

“wild tea accident.” zuko bows, staring at the freedom fighter with a polite smile. “if you’ll be needing anything, just go upstairs and ask for me.”

jet chews on his straw, nodding a farewell before closing the door. 

zuko returns to the main deck, struck with another case of curiosity. since the avatar left just a few days ago, zuko had gone through a couple of repetitious and grueling days, asking the same questions and smiling at the same people. but, docking here, meeting jet li—well, zuko could feel it; a change on its way. 

the words _ba sing se_ flowing out of jet li’s mouth reminds zuko of the upcoming day, just a week or so away. despite that, iroh stays chirpy, waking early to warm his tea and sleeping early, having finished said tea. a regular schedule for a now regular man, though bound to be broken in the next week. so at night, cleaning up after the last customer leaves, zuko stays with iroh on deck. 

“i was thinking,” he begins, his fingertips wringing together. “maybe this year, we can go to ba sing se.”

iroh, standing at the railing, stays still. and so zuko makes his way closer, hesitant against the wind. iroh replies, “why’s that?”

zuko gulps the tough down, whatever it was that sucked his throat dry. “i just think…” he trails off. he’s spoken out of turn before. more so with his uncle. but in this moment, in its honesty, he can’t seem to voice his mind. “it’s the most honorable way for you to pay tribute to him. to visit his grave.”

iroh turns, towards the prince, and lets his hand fall on his shoulder. “zuko,” the uncle softly speaks. the cold air rushes between them, pinching at zuko’s cheeks, but it’s safe, it’s cold, and it’s just him. “i think that would be nice.”

  
  


jet swings the door open, running a hand through his messy hair. behind him, smellerbee and longshot groan into their beds. jet looks zuko up and down, nodding a hello, “morning already, huh?” zuko nods. “what’s up?”

“we’re serving breakfast in a few minutes, i’m making my rounds to tell everybody,” zuko replies, hastily backing away as jet steps out of the room. the freedom fighter closes the metal door behind him, loudly sounding the creaking joints. 

“i hope your food is decent,” the boy grumbles, chewing on a straw. “we’ve been eating scraps for weeks.”

“well, no worries, then,” zuko assures, guiding jet up the stairs. “today, you and your friends will eat like kings.”

  
  


after his first three hours, zuko retreats to the bunk room for his midday break. sinking into the bottom bunk, zuko rests his shoulders, and in the bunk above him jang peeks a teasing smile. “i

hear from the grapevine that you’ve got yourself a friend, prince lee.”

“your majesty’s got some earth kingdom fighter,” feng adds, feigning surprise. “such good taste.”

zuko snatches his two pillows and offers each snickering boy one to the head. they laugh nonetheless, throwing them back at him as he withers into his bedsheets, groaning, “why do you always do this to me?”

“i think it’s nice zuko’s socializing,” mara speaks up, laying on her stomach and propping her chin on her palm. “he’s finally got someone his age.”

“don’t make us sound old,” jang complains, jumping off the top bunk. crouching down to zuko, he ruffles the boy’s hair. “i’m sure zuko loves our maturity.”

shortly after, jang and feng take off to start their shift and zuko follows to continue his. peeking at jet’s table, the freedom fighter must’ve left to his room, zuko surmises, his table already cleared for the next customer. zuko leads another passenger to an empty table, writes down the order, and as he goes in the kitchen to grab a cup and a pot, he drops the paper at kook’s table. the routine continues--cleaning, serving, nodding--for the next few hours, only ever pausing for lunch. 

repeating another night of cleanup, zuko helps rearrange the chairs and tables for music night. daito wheels out his cart of warm and freshly baked pastries, jee tunes his violin, iroh clears his throat, and jet li nods at zuko as the tea server makes his rounds, placing empty cups on the table. as zuko pours the freedom fighters’ tea, jet greets, “nice night, huh?”

“yeah,” zuko nods, shrugging. “did you like the food?”

jet smiles. “like kings.” pointing at his companions, he introduces, “that’s smellerbee. this is longshot. we’re the freedom fighters.” smellerbee narrows her eyes. _we were_. 

“cool.” taking smellerbee’s order, he passes the note to kook before returning the tea to the cart. jee plays his violin, haku beats the drum, the travelers clap along. 

“i see your new friend is here,” feng notes, nudging him in the side. “you’re getting along nicely.” zuko sighs, shaking his head. “what? it’s so exciting. the only other kid you’ve talked to is the avatar, and, well, you see how it’s going.” zuko grunts. feng’s smile grows, stepping away for the incoming customer. “i think i’ll be going now.”

“hey.” zuko turns around, mumbling a _hey_ back at jet li. the freedom fighter ticks his head to the side. “walk with me, please.”

the two walk to the back of the ship, clear of any passengers or tables. stopping at the railing, they lean over and watch the tides pass them by. “so,” zuko begins. “what’s up?”

“are you a fighter, lee?” jet asks. staring at zuko, the wind rushes them, feathering through his hair and cooing at zuko’s scar. 

zuko shrugs. “not much of one. why?”

“i guess we’ll find out.” jet whips out his hooked swords, driving one towards zuko’s face. zuko leans back before catching jet’s arm and slamming it against the metal railing. the hook sword slips out of his hands, clattering on the deck. 

“no fighting on the ship,” zuko reprimands, letting go of the boy’s arm and stepping back. under the prince’s watchful eyes, jet retrieves his other sword, sinking into a stance. “i said--”

“zuko, no fighting on the ship,” kook yells on her way to the kitchen. “iroh will have you pay for the floorboards.”

“i-i’m not fighting!” 

“did i hear _fight_?” feng calls excitedly. rushing out on deck, he throws zuko’s two broadswords on the ground. “lee, catch!”

“what are you--” jet li charges, interrupting zuko with another swipe of his hooked swords. as jet twists in a round arc, zuko ducks, dipping and rolling over towards the broadswords. “jet, stop.”

stubbornly, jet advances, hooking one end of his sword to the other and swinging the set around. zuko backs away, scowling at feng’s cheers of _get him lee!_ and kook’s scolds of _if you dent the floor you’re dead_. biting his lips, he times jet’s swings, before driving his broadsword into the ground and catching jet’s sword by the hook. jet jerks forward and, following that, zuko drags the hooked swords towards him. kook huffs at the marks and the freedom fighter drops his swords, letting zuko stand and kick the hooked set aside. 

jet regains his stance, still egging for a fight, and zuko, in exasperation, drops his swords beside him as he locks into a stance. the two circle each other, blocking out feng’s shouts of approval and jee’s violin humming through the fire; with a smug smirk, jet feigns a right hook, that zuko dodges, before landing his left fist in the prince’s cheek. zuko growls, sorting himself. he leads with his left fist, that jet dodges, and his right fist, that jet grabs, swinging zuko’s arm over his head and twisting his wrist. zuko flips, much to feng’s dismay, but lands upright. the cheer continues. 

pulling jet’s arm, he reels him in and drives his left through the fighter’s cheek, before grabbing jet by his shoulders and jerking him against his knee. they push apart, panting and cheeks bruising, and jet, with a pause, drops his hands with a pleased smile. “it seems like you are much of a fighter.” he wipes the blood from the edge of his smile with his thumb. “good job.”

zuko picks up his swords and jet his own, eyes locked intently. “not so bad yourself.”

“okay, weird boy fight aside,” kook interjects, grabbing both sets of weapons. “no fighting. both of you clean yourselves up.” and, before zuko can check his bruise, kook plants a firm grip on his shoulder. “you’re paying for the floorboards.”

he nods. “sorry.”

after music night, the passengers and crew retire to their rooms. at the break of dawn, however, zuko surrenders to jang’s snores and daito’s sleeptalking, and slowly creaks the door open on his way out to the deck. much to his surprise, he finds jet li by the bow, sticking his legs out the railing. peeking over his shoulder, jet teases, “looking for another fight?”

zuko provides no response, claiming his spot on the upper deck, and watches the sun rise. nighttime waning, zuko sighs at another routine day. as expected, jet makes his way up to the upper deck. the freedom fighter asks, “how’s the bruise?”

zuko turns, facing the boy with his purple mark. “could be better.”

jet chuckles, lightly touching his own. “your friend stopped by, she gave me some ointment.”

zuko knows. mara, returning to the bunk beds, thought jet li was a good catch. she recited the short-lived conversation between them, word for word, and flushed pink into her pillow as the crew teased. “yeah, she did.”

“let me explain myself,” jet smiles. “i think you’d fit right in with my crew and me. you could come with me to ba sing se. i hear the food is great there.”

zuko faces the horizon once more, his hands interlocking together. “i think i’m fine here, thanks.”  
  


jet laughs. zuko doesn’t bother looking back. “i--seriously, lee? i mean, the food here is great but even a lowlife like me wouldn’t stay long.” 

“a person like me would,” zuko responds. 

“you really think you can live the rest of your life like this?” jet asks, and zuko knows deep down-- _no, not at all_. “you’re a born fighter, lee. i can see that. you’ve got skill. do you really want to waste it, doing this? serving tea, day and night, watching people come and go?”

zuko breathes the cold air in. “what if i want to?”

“no, i don’t think you do,” jet insists. heading back to his room, he says, “but the offer still stands.”

on the second day at sea, the second day of jet li and the freedom fighters’ stay, zuko finds the time between serving and sleeping to seek iroh out. the time comes at the end of the day, out on the upper deck where the crew, jee, and iroh rest at. zuko hands out the tea and daito’s leftover pastries before sitting himself down, squeezed in between feng and kook. 

“no fights today, huh?” feng teases. 

“i am disappointed,” iroh starts, sipping his tea. kook awaits, ready to agree, but the retired general continues, slamming his cup down on the table, “that you didn’t beat him up _more_! the boy starts a fight for no reason and bruises my favorite nephew.”

“he’s your only nephew.”

“regardless,” iroh regains a gracious smile. “i’ll let you pass on the floorboards. that boy better not pick another fight again.”

the crew laughs, murmuring on about what each server heard from who and what new mixes customers requested. thinking about jet, zuko speaks up as the evening quiets down, “jet li talked to me this morning.” at their suspicious glances, he explains, “he wanted to recruit me into his freedom fighters club.”

“did you want to?” kook asks. 

he shakes his head. “no. he tried to convince me, talking about how boring it would be serving tea everyday,” iroh narrows his eyes. surely, zuko was giving off a bad impression of the freedom fighter. “and even though i didn’t want to join his group, he pointed something out to me.” catching the crew’s attentive eyes, he looks down. “fighting jet li, i just felt...alive. i’ve been serving tea for years, and, i don’t know, i think i’m getting restless.”

staring down at his hands, he recalls gripping his broadsword--fighting azula’s flames, knocking sokka off his feet, fighting jet li and driving his fist through his cheek--he thinks of his fire, quelled in a lull in his chest, flickering lightly through the day. the wind, the air, the rush; letting the weights drop and his light drive endless. 

“i could tell,” jee notes, stroking his beard. “a boy like you, trained to be more than a mere tea server--i can remember a time when i myself didn’t want to end up a fisherman, like my father. granted, i landed myself in jail, but,” he pops the last piece of daito’s dessert in his mouth, and the crew watches in awe. “if you follow the right advice, you’ll end up being happy. that’s why i’m happy, now.”

“wait, hold on,” jang pauses. “you were actually arrested? i thought that was a joke.”

“oh, well,” exchanging contact with iroh, jee continues, hesitantly. “to be short: i entered brawling tournaments to win money. i saved up and bought my dad a new boat. some fire nation soldiers thought i stole it, because a noble claimed he was robbed, and i was arrested. they knew i wrestled, so, they put me in a training program. and then i was lieutenant. and then i got here.”

caught between awe and surprise, they nod along to the tale. reaching the vague and nonspecific end, feng comments, “well, that was a story.”

“life stories aside,” iroh laments, fixating back on zuko. “if you want to start sparring again, we can do it at night and in the morning. that’s why i bought that big carpet, it keeps people from scratching the floor with their swords.” zuko rubs his neck. 

“i think some training will do you good,” jee agrees. “if we ever get someone else who tries to pick a fight, you might be able to land more than a hit in.” 

  
  


jet li sneaks out of his room, climbing the stairs and reaching the main deck, as he suspects zuko already waiting there, cheek still bruised. as expected, the tea server is—jet can hear his voice—but in front of the door sits a half-asleep daito, who jerks upright at jet’s presence. sticking to the plan, he loudly greets, “oh, hi, lee’s friend! you’re lee’s friend, right? guys, get ready, lee’s friend is here!”

daito slings a heavy arm atop jet’s shoulders and directs him to the back deck, where, panting on a thick mat, zuko and jang stand. already dispersing, the crew stands upright, offering jet their widest smiles—zuko, none, just a small nod as he wipes his neck with a cloth. mara offers a hand, “nice to meet you again. you certainly hit it off well with zuko.”

jet shakes her hand, much to her excitement, but it’s short lived as jet backs away. “sorry,” he says. “i’ll come back when lee’s alone.”

and jet retreats to his room, according to daito’s truthful word, leaving zuko and the crew to continue his training. “alright,” jee says. “i think we’ve seen enough hand to hand. zuko should try his firebending.”

“right now? he’s barely warmed up,” iroh protests, raising a hand to the wind. “it’s cold out, too.”

“it’s okay, uncle,” zuko insists, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms. jang does just the same, having been trained alongside firebenders during his service training. the two sink into place, arms raised. 

jang begins, twisting his hips to aim a high kick into zuko’s left side. the prince blocks with his forearm, before circling his feet and emitting a short burst of fire—really, really short, and really, really faint, so much so that it fades out in the next soft brush of wind. feng comments from the upper deck, “not what i was expecting, but, okay.”

“don’t go too easy on me, prince,” jang laments. “you might end up losing.”

“i wasn’t trying to—well, i was trying to do _something_ ,” zuko says, staring down at his hand. he was plenty warmed up by the sparring he did earlier, and in all other situations, it barely took zuko a minute before he could fire a short blast as he’d planned. “something’s wrong.”

“you haven’t firebended in a long time, zuko,” iroh points out, rising from his seat. 

“yeah, but, i knew the form and everything.” zuko states down at his hand, barely warm and a pale white. “i didn’t realize it was anything different.”

“i _mean_ : you haven’t firebended for some time, and there have been some big changes during that time,” iroh corrects, making his way to the boy. and of course, zuko knows of changes--proof in the new hairstyle. pointing at the prince’s hand, iroh advises, “you know the form, know what to do.” and then he points to zuko’s chest. “but what do you think is going on in there?”

zuko ponders it, rubbing his arms. he’s near shivering, almost as cold as he felt at the water tribes. focusing on his chest, he breathes, trying to pamper his inner fire. but deep within him, he feels that it has simmered down to flicker, a small match surrounded by rushing air. “i’m losing it. why?”

iroh shrugs, holding back the answers. jang retires to his seat, chugging down a glass of water, as zuko reflects on the last time he used his firebending—against zhao, at the northern water tribe. freely standing as zuko, he’d beaten the admiral with some difficulty alright, but in the end he firebended nonetheless. _so why?_ zuko wonders, clenching and unclenching his fist, recalling the pain that followed from the biting cold.

“figure it out yet?” feng calls, but zuko shakes his head. he sits on the mat, crossing his legs, thinking back before the fight and zhao’s siege. back to the night the ship was blown up, and, staring at the crew’s wounds in rage, zuko had made the solemn promise to ensure the admiral never got the avatar. so, _revenge._

zuko thinks back further, only recalling the fire temple—blowing fire with the other fire sages to open the door—and at the southern water tribe—fighting zhao once again, and aang, before the avatar entered the avatar state. fire had come easily to him during all those times, and through it all zuko recalls the feelings of urgency, of need, of anger. _the avatar, home, honor_ ; it crowded zuko’s mind with the harsh memories of judgement. 

“well, what do you usually think when you try to firebend?” mara suggests from her seat.

“i try to think…” zuko trails off, scratching the nape of his neck. “i think of capturing the avatar, you know, like, how i was so driven to restore my honor.”

jang steps back on the mat, leaning down to stretch his legs and back. “well, you’re not chasing the avatar now, so what else can you think about?”

the prince shrugs. “i don’t know. i spent so long chasing the avatar, i guess that’s what fueled me. and when i gave up on it, i was fueled by my anger at zhao. and when he was gone, i had nothing left to be angry about.” standing, he outstretches his hands. then, to iroh, he asks, “what does it mean? i can’t firebend anymore, because i’m not angry?”

“okay, well, let’s just get you angry,” jang begins, and feng murmurs an _ooh_ from his place. “back in training you’d just have to taunt someone, like--uh, what’d you eat for breakfast? i bet it wa--”

“it’s because you don’t have a drive, kid,” jee clarifies, cutting short whatever taunt jang had planned. “you need to find something else to keep you running. something that means a lot to you.” zuko nods. the avatar, of course, meant a lot to him. the teahouse, as well. but zuko didn’t want the avatar and he already had the teahouse, so what was there to want? 

“from training we’re taught to believe that anger is the source of our fire,” iroh adds. “but at some point in your life, you’re just not angry anymore.”

“for what it’s worth, i still think it looked cool,” kook assures, patting the prince on the shoulder. 

mara adds from her seat, “yeah, if you just imagined some big fireball spitting out, that’d be cooler.”

“sorry, i fell asleep, what did i miss?” daito arrives, wiping the drool from his chin. 

kook spins wildly. “you were supposed to be watching the door!”

daito shrugs and yawns. “nobody came through anyway.”

the crew, preparing to dock at the neck port, roll up the training mat quickly, folding it and stashing it in the closet. zuko and jang race to the showers, jee returns to the bridge, and the rest wait idly by the empty tables for the next hour. through it all, jet glowers in the guest room, having seen it all. 

“hey, jet,” zuko says, greeting the freedom fighter as he sets down on the table three cups. “last meal before we dock. it’s a long way to ba sing se.”

jet grunts, seemingly busied with the menu in his hands, and zuko departs, seemingly busied with the rush of passengers itching to get off on the next port. luggages pushed under tables, business attire worn, and extra orders of dessert to save off the ship; zuko knows it all, having repeated the system numerous times before. after dropping off the freedom fighters’ orders off with kook, he grabs the teapot from the cart. 

back at jet’s table, zuko pours the tea and, over jet’s shoulder, tells smellerbee their order would be out soon. the prince leaves, but jet li rises from his seat, grabbing the boy by his shoulder. “jet? what’s wrong?”

the freedom fighter glares. smellerbee, from her seat, softly remarks, _not anymore, jet._ but he doesn’t listen. “don’t worry about our offer. i’d be better off without some scum like you.”

zuko steps back, letting jet’s hand slide, and feels the red hot on the back of his neck return. “what do you mean?”

“you think i’d like to be around someone like you? the real you?” jet narrows his eyes. zuko timidly waits, feeling the tables buzz all around him. someone calls for a receipt. another asks for another serving. but jet stands idle, glaring at him. “you can pretend all you want, but you’re just like them. you burn down things just for fun.”

“i-i don’t understand.” zuko’s hands shake, the buzz growing--jang asks for help cleaning the tables, feng is just arriving to his shift, another customer asks for the menu. 

“you’re a firebender,” jet growls. zuko’s breath hitches, the red spreading. “you don’t deserve a peaceful life.” jet turns to the customers, all chattering in delight, and he shouts, “you’re all in danger! you’re on board with a firebender!”

smellerbee stands up, longshot just beside her; kook hurries her way through the tables, and the customers altogether ramble wildly in their seats, looking around and gasping in fear. kook pulls zuko back by the shoulder, taking the boy’s tea pot, and tries to converse with the freedom fighter, “listen, jet, you’re worrying everyone, it’s best to just sit dow--”

“how can you live with him? after everything he’s done?” more buzz alight, one table asks for their receipt, another’s child starts crying. and jet continues, the red on zuko’s neck pinches. “his people kill, they steal, and you’re okay with that?”

“lee’s not like them, he’s good,” kook convinces, but to no avail. she reaches for him. “jet, i think it’s best if you--”

the freedom fighter snaps and hits her hand away, and, seething in his place--ears buzzing, skin burning--zuko grabs jet’s hand, tight and steaming. he pulls the boy close, voice gruff and low, as he warns, “you touch her again, i’ll throw you off the ship.” jet’s caught hand shakes, feeling a hot pinch in the center of his palm. zuko pulls away, releasing their hands. “now step off, before i consider it.”

as smellerbee approaches, apologizing for the harm, jet stares down at his hand and its reddening blister--and, watching zuko’s departing back, he hides it with a grimace in his pocket. zuko makes his rounds for the rest of the table, handing the child a lollipop, serving more menus, pouring more teas, all the while explaining the troubling situation was just a misunderstanding. the buzz quiets, relaxing into a content morning, as jee steers the ship into the next harbor. 

the customers file in a long line off the ship, talking amongst themselves of the food and the tea and stopping momentarily to thank iroh for the service. at the end, jet and his freedom fighters step off, and parting with one last look, jet meets zuko’s hardening gaze with contempt of his own.

  
  


late at night, zuko rolls the black mat onto the deck. the crew watches, though half of them doze off, and jang circles him, throwing punch after punch. “no firebending, still?”

“not anymore,” zuko says, dodging, before sweeping the boy’s leg. “but earlier, with jet, i was so angry, i could feel my warmth again. well, not exactly angry like i was before, just irritated. or bothered.”

“i was getting bothered just watching him,” daito says from his chair. “the boy had the guts to touch kook--if you weren’t gonna get angry, i was.”

“yeah, but before you’d get the chance i would’ve already thrown him overboard,” kook says, swirling her tea. “he was scaring all the customers, harassing zuko, and he hits my hand? i’m almost disappointed you let him get away with that.”

zuko chuckles lightly, swinging his left fist towards jang’s torso. “i didn’t.” jang catches his arm, reeling him in, but zuko drives up his knee. just before kneeing his abdomen, he stops, jang letting him go, and they return to circling each other. “but yeah, that’s what bothered me, he was just starting so much trouble.”

“see, i told you training him would be good,” jee chuckles. “we’ve got ourselves a peacekeeper.”

and, taking a break, zuko sips his tea and decides, silently, he likes that. _peace_. 

* * *

the jasmine dragon waits another day at the docks while delivering final shipments, packing clothes, and helping daito bake snacks for jee. 

the lieutenant was prohibited from entering ba sing se, most likely due to his false ‘robbery’ charges from his teens (or perhaps his profile as a fire nation lieutenant, one or the other), and so he tasked himself with keeping the ship locked down while the crew was gone. mara vowed, in the middle of folding the chairs and tables to the side, that they’d all find a way to send letters outside ba sing se. 

the next morning arrives quickly, after one last music night together, and jee waves down at the crew on the docks. “come back soon,” he urges with a smile. “or else you might find that i’ve run off with a pretty lady.”

“in that case, we better hurry back,” feng jokes. “jee knows a way with women.”

  
  


“you know, as much as i like having a bunk bed, this seems nice, too,” jang comments, diving into a bed in one of the guest rooms. the rest of the crew does the same, with the two girls taking one room and the five boys in the other, all resting their aching feet and shoulders in the soft mattress. “kook--please, let’s buy these mattresses for the ship.”

“as much as i’d like to save money, yeah, that seems nice,” she replies, voice muffled in her sheets. “i mean, it’s possible, too, it’s like--”

the door swings open and shut. rising from his bed, zuko checks the living room, to find the iroh gone. kook peeks out of the guest room. “did he leave? already?”

zuko picks up the note left on the table. “i think it’s best we leave him alone.”

kook nods, grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet to fill with water. mara follows shortly after, digging in her luggage for the bag of snacks she snuck on the train. “well, in the meantime,” mara says, biting into daito’s almond biscuit. “we can explore the city. we’ve never been inside here before.”

“there’s not much to see in the lower province,” daito remarks. “i heard they have a bunch of ponds and stuff in the main city. oh, to be rich.” altogether, the crew sinks into the couches. admittedly, their earnings from the teahouse only landed themselves in the lower region, but compared to what the refugees pouring into the city could afford, this place was a luxury in of itself. 

“where do you wanna go today?” zuko asks, laying his head back.

“might as well buy some food, you know, to cook,” kook mumbles against mara’s shoulder, who yawns and pops another dessert in her mouth. “i saw a market on the way here.”

“yeah, zuko, you can make your special soup,” jang suggests. zuko’s soup--more commonly known amongst the crew as _prince lee’s stew_ \--was a recipe of his mother’s, cooked for him every weekend, and, on the jasmine dragon, served as a special every week. a mix of spinach, chicken and bok choy that often raised requests for the recipe from many customers. 

“mmh, a bowl of prince lee’s stew,” feng comments, rubbing his belly. “let’s hope iroh comes back soon, surely it’ll lighten him up.”

with that in mind, they stretch and head out, stalking towards the market kook spotted down the street. feng, kook, and daito wander off in an antique and pawn store--feng, for the swords; daito, for the wooden bowls; kook, for the souveniers--while mara, jang, haku and zuko scour through the food stalls--mara, for the fruits; jang, for the pork dumplings; and zuko and haku, with reasonable purpose, for the soup ingredients. 

“how is it, we spent an hour searching for these, and they’re still not done?” haku sighs, zuko following along. the two return to their place with the ingredients, and haku heats up a pan while zuko chops the vegetables. 

in the middle of sauteeing the chopped vegetables, mara, jang, and daito arrive; mara with a basket of fruits, daito with his bowls, and jang with two boxes of dumplings. in the kitchen, they snack on the food, zuko finishing a dumpling in between searing the chicken and adding water, and haku munching on another while cutting the fruits before adding in the broth flavoring. the aroma fills the room, settling lightly on zuko’s shoulders as he taste-tests the broth. 

_eat up,_ his mother would say on those nights. she’d cook it herself when the servants retired to their rooms and zuko couldn’t sleep, stricken with nightmares of blue fire and azula’s calls. they’d sit across from each other, sipping lightly, giggling at every sound. _before your father sees._

feng and kook return in the early evening, iroh by their side. the uncle smiles at the sight, “some prince lee stew. my favorite.”

the crew clears the kitchen island, lining each side with bowls and spoons. kook steeps the tea, feng scoops the rice, and zuko sets the broth in the center of the bowls. crowding the kitchen, they dig in, sipping the soup, blowing on the tea, feasting in on the dumplings. through his bites, feng shows off the small dagger he bought from the shop, holding up its gold lining in the light. “now i can fight, in style.”

“no weapons at the table,” kook complains before turning to iroh. “so, how was your day, general?”

“i played a liquin, had some tea with a thief, and went to a tree,” iroh recalls, smiling at the memories. with another spoonful of his soup, he chuckles. “some tea, some music, and my favorite soup. the perfect way to celebrate a birthday.”

  
  


after sending a letter to jee, the crew decides to stay for another day, finding it convenient to buy more supplies before returning to the ship. but sliding under their doorstep, one morning, is a flyer by the entrance that haku picks up. the crew, already up and early on their tea-preparing schedule, sleepily prepare some tea in the kitchen. kook, staring at haku by the door, asks, “what is it?”

“a missing bison,” haku reports. “the avatar’s.” yawning, haku hands the flyer over, and the crew blink the grogginess out of their eyes to find a pencil drawing of a blob with a snout and an arrow on its head. 

“i’m surprised you could make that out,” mara notes, rubbing at her eyes once more. “or am i just--is it my eyes?” the rest shake their heads with a sleepy groan. “oh. i guess the avatar’s not much of an artist.”

“guys, the avatar’s _here_ , in ba sing se,” zuko emphasizes to them. they nod, a collective _oh_ issued. iroh stalks into the kitchen, thanking for the tea. “uncle, the avatar’s in ba sing se. he’s looking for his bison.”

“oh, what news,” iroh notes. he grabs a plate of the fruit haku cut earlier, adding another _thank you_. 

zuko stares at the flyer, still, and jang sighs. “you’re not actually gonna help look for his bison? zuko?”

they all watch him, standing with a bowl of soup in one hand and the flyer in the other, and the prince shrugs, setting the drawing down with a reluctant, “i don’t know.”

“come on, we’re here to relax,” jang continues, groaning into a bite of fruit. 

“if zuko wants to find the bison, he can go find the bison,” kook defends, sipping her tea. “though i’ll say, i’d rather spend my time here buying more stuff, but you know, he can do whatever he wants.”

feng shakes his head, setting his dishes in the sink. “i don’t know, kook, if zuko’s looking to get involved in the avatar’s business again…” he taps his chin, inadvertently lining his skin with soap. “...one might think, he might just think, you know, he’s looking for more than a bison.”

“i’m not gonna try to capture the avatar again,” zuko clarifies, though feng still doubts. “being here, relaxing, it sounds nice, it sounds fun,” he offers, rubbing his neck. jang scoffs. “but i think i’d rather spend the rest of my stay helping out the avatar.”

“so, the bison, but not firebending lessons?” jang criticizes. 

“all that aside,” kook says, reconsidering the subject. “how are you supposed to find a bison?”

finding the avatar’s bison is easy. releasing the avatar’s bison--just as simple. the walk back, however, proves to be more of a challenge. trudging through the streets, the steps before the prince fold and slip, the setting sun glowers down at him, and the back of his neck burns in its normalcy. the walk continues, biting at his patience, before succumbing to a sigh of relief at the doorstep.   
  


“it seems that with whatever avatar-related mission you go off on, you either come back soaked, tired, or, in this case, extremely sick,” kook remarks, setting a bowl of prince lee stew on his lap. zuko shifts in his bedsheets, spooning the soup into his mouth. 

“to think finding the avatar’s bison would be simple,” feng laughs from his own bed, sorting out the collection he bought from the pawn shop earlier. 

“everytime i help the avatar i come back heavier,” zuko groans, ironically bed-ridden from his light-headedness. iroh returns to his bedside, a spare cup of tea in his hands. “when we first met, i didn’t really care. but i’ve been saving him, fighting for him, and i feel even worse.”

“heavy? like how?” kook asks. 

zuko points to his chest. of course, two years ago, such a weight barely existed--if he can recall--but through it all, fighting zhao, fighting azula, protecting the avatar; bit by bit, it was adding up, and saving the avatar’s bison was the miniscule ounce that toppled the scale over. “here. i don’t know, like it’s been weighing me down, pressing down on me.”

kook exchanges a concerned look with daito. to iroh, she asks, “should we see a doctor? if it’s anything to do with the heart…” 

iroh raises his hand, and with the other brushes zuko’s hair back, planting a palm on his forehead. after a moment, iroh moves his hand to the boy’s neck, and then, finally, to his chest. three gentle pulses, and iroh pulls away. “i think this is less physical and more mental.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means you’ll have to figure it out,” iroh decides, taking the tea and bowl and leaving them on the bedside table. “get some rest, zuko.”

  
  


news of zuko being bedridden is sent to jee, and from thereon t

he crew decides to extend their stay until the prince recovers. the ba sing se patrol, kook had warned, wouldn’t let the crew leave if he so much as coughed. “i’m not sick, i’m just…”

“sick in the head?” feng offers, parting the curtains. “even so, you look sick. like, really sick.”

feng leaves the room shortly after, following iroh’s strict orders of peace and silence. and through it all zuko thinks of peace and silence--what quiet life he expected of forever serving tea, what peaceful life he pursued before swearing revenge on zhao, what conflicted life he lead in the first two years of his banishment. and he thinks, _did i ever really move past from that?_

to capture the avatar or leave his own life behind, that was the ordeal plaguing him until, well, he decided. that night with the avatar on board, the talk with sokka, handing the necklace back--he’d first decided, then and there, no more avatar. wasn’t that the end of it? no, of course, because there was more avatar--the northern water tribe, the pohuai stronghold, and his bison. only, during those times, he chose saving him solely for the sake of saving him. now, wasn’t _that_ the end of it? 

jang, from his bed, groans as he rolls over to his side, facing zuko with his sleepy eyes--the other night he’d stayed up late playing pai sho with kook and daito, with iroh in the middle speculating their moves. skipping breakfast, he’d slept far past noon. “i can hear you thinking all the way from over here.” and zuko mumbles. “what?”

“sorry,” the prince repeats, peeking out from his pillow. “i’ll think quieter.”

“no, whenever you think to yourself, you either end up in water or you think for two years.” jang shifts onto his back, kicking the bedsheets off him. the afternoon was settling in, zuko could feel it. “so, spill, what’s on your mind?”

“i just,” zuko yawns. “i’m thinking about when i stopped chasing the avatar and started helping him.” jang nods. “you know, when i fought the avatar after saving him, and i followed him to the fire temple. and then, when he and his friends stayed on the ship, i just changed my mind. and i thought that was it, because i decided, but now, it feels like whatever inner fight i was having, it’s not over.”

zuko waits in the silence, letting jang ponder for himself. besides being a fire nation soldier, a fire nation refugee, and zuko’s personal trainer, jang often presented himself as a thoughtful one. zuko, first entering his banishment, wasn’t much of one himself, sparking heated debates between him and jang, until, well, he got a mind of his own. perhaps it was why they fought together so perfectly, both contemplating each other’s movements and their own to the highest degree. “do you ever think that it’s not over because you make it out to be?” jang reaches for his pillow, readjusting himself onto it. “you decided. but you still want to think about it. i wouldn’t know why, probably because it’s hard to believe whatever it is you’re giving up from the fire nation.” jang looks over at zuko, speaking soft. “that is, your mother.” 

and zuko considers that, the prince lee stew, the turtle ducks in the pond, the golden strand weaved in her hair. his mother, her long raven hair, her concerned, departing smile; those last words, _everything i've done, i’ve done to protect you. remember this, zuko. no matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are_. his father on the throne, and azula kneeling with a smile. he considers that, because not long ago, he had, after azula’s proposition, and he chose her. his mother. “i guess i think about her, without even noticing.”

and jang nods, looking down at his hands. he had a mother of his own back in the fire nation, alongside with his father. it was intended for him to serve for twenty more years, to pay off the ‘debt’ his parents owed as ‘refugees’ from the earth kingdom. if he was seen so much as bumping into his parents, they’d lose their home, their jobs, everything. compared to the rest of the crew, jang was the only one who, like zuko, cared about those he left at the fire nation, and who, like zuko, had no possible way of seeing them anytime soon. 

the door peeks open, kook smiling with a tray in her arms. the rest of the crew push in, holding tea and fruits and dumplings. “look what we got from the market.”

the night arrives early, and for a while they break out the pai sho board, resting it on zuko’s bed, as he watches kook battle daito and feng battle mara and so on. iroh adds in his constructive criticism, and zuko laughs at daito fumbling between his choices. after a few rounds or so, zuko quiets down to sleep, and, quietly, they move out to the living room. every so often, they alternate--iroh, kook, jang, and so on--in checking on the sleeping boy, smiling at him snug in his sheets.

  
  


“never forget who you are,” his mother urges--shining eyes, parting smile, a silent goodbye--before fading into the grim dark. he feels himself reaching, begging, and in a blink of an eye he’s on his feet, chasing through the oblivion. for who, he can’t decide; considering aang, his mother, or, possibly, azula. he looks around wildly, left and right, but the fog overtakes him. 

suddenly, he falls, feet tearing through air, and, ripping through the fog, when he lands--hard on his feet, thick in the legs--he stares down at a fearful aang. “please, no, zuko,” aang begs. between them grows a reddening hue, lashing and growling. “don’t do it. it’s not you.”

“but who am i?” zuko asks, the question never once coming from him. and subconsciously, he raises his arms, feeling the thick heat within him spread wild. and he thinks.  _ no, no, i can’t do this. not to him. he’s just a boy. no, i can’t. i won’t _ . but he rises, towering over the avatar, hands steaming. their feet sink into the abyss in a drowning fog. “you’re just a kid. i am…”

between him and the avatar is nothing. free space, a thin film of air; easy to tear into, harder to pull out of. and, here it comes, echoing from the murk of his mind: “i am the phoenix king.”

and aang crawls into himself, sparing one more look up zuko. and in those grey eyes, he can see himself--the strong nose, the fire, and the fire lord crown snug in his white hair. zuko blinks and the avatar begs with a solemn, hopeless whisper, “sozin, don’t.”

and zuko hardens, aiming bravely with a weathered hand--he thinks,  _ no, i can’t firebend, i won’t hurt him _ \--and, fighting his own grip, the fire flourishes, brighter and harsher than before. the red and orange take over, blinding his eyes, until it ceases in a silent, fading manner. 

the avatar gone--down and dusted--the ground beneath him begins to shake, swaying beneath his feet _.  _ looking up, he spots the grey and dark waters, the tides passing him by, all weaving him back towards the docks. in some unknown desperation, he crawls onto his knees, digging his hands in the water to anchor himself to the ground. but there standing on the land, in his red entirety, is his father, watching his approach in contempt. 

his hands leave the water. he pulls onto his feet, treading in shame. and zuko draws closer, the waves fighting his will. he rises to the firelord, his skin burning, and his hands shake, pulling him down. ozai’s voice rings clear, another weight pushing down on his shoulders.  _ these people need us, zuko. the world needs our peace.  _ but zuko doesn’t care; he never did, no. “you wanted me gone,” zuko says, his voice a feeble whisper. “isn’t that what you wanted?” 

but ozai stares, offering no response. the waves pull him, rising to his knees; the ice beneath bites, glowing a vibrant blue, and zuko fights, but to no avail. it overtakes him, latching on, and through it all--the weight, the drive, the fire--he sinks, idly, and lets the cold gloss over his closed eyes. the burning subsides, caressing his scar, and cooes into his ears, guiding him through the abyss. but he rises, nonetheless, spotting a hand through the tides and grabbing it with a heave. 

gasping out of the water, he falls onto the ground with a grunt. weakly, he pushes off his arms, turning to the man before him. and, standing tall, avatar roku bows his head. he greets, “i finally get to see you, zuko.”

“but how? i’m not the avatar.” the prince climbs onto his feet, staring up at roku. 

“no, but you’re family,” the avatar smiles. “we don’t have much time until your uncle comes in.” the man grabs zuko’s hands, firm and steady. “your pain is not yours to blame. it has been brought upon you because of the failures of your forefathers, of me and sozin.”

“i don’t--”

“you are a product of me. of war and my last mistakes,” roku pushes on, despite zuko’s confusion. “the side of you that fights for the avatar is my effort to redeem myself. but the side that fights against the avatar’s is sozin’s efforts to finish his legacy.”

“what does that mean?”

“i means you must remember who you are and what you fight for,” roku professes, holding their hands together tight. “you must remember what you first believed in.”

“the fire nation?”

he shakes his head. “no,” releasing their hands, roku points to his chest. the contact spreads, bringing forth memories of the walk with ozai, the boy with a cold, the parents and their work, the skittish thief in the alley. the burnt plains, the refugees boarding. “peace.”

zuko remembers, touching his chest. “but what will that do? what about the pain?”

“the pain will end when you understand,” roku continues, stepping back with a hesitant smile. “all you have to do is choose you.”

  
  


late at night, iroh peeks in, and in the breaking moonlight, zuko sits, his back facing the door. “zuko?”

and zuko lights up, a small smile of relief as iroh draws closer. “uncle, you’re here.” standing, he meets iroh in the middle, taking the man into a soft embrace. “i had the strangest dream.”

“you’re walking,” iroh notes. “do you feel better? is the pain gone?”

“no,” zuko shakes his head. but, still, he smiles. “but i can bear it.”

“you’re so happy,” iroh says, and zuko’s smile widens. 

“because you’re here,” zuko responds, pulling apart despite iroh’s tight, shaking hands. “you’re the only one from our family that hasn’t left me. you chose to stay and guide me. and for that, i’m thankful.” looking aside, he rubs his neck. “i know i don’t say it often. but, i love you, uncle.”

“i love you too, nephew.”

“i thought i heard a princey voice in here!” feng bursts in, switching on the lights before bombarding the prince with a tight hug. wailing, he cries, “oh, he’s alive, he’s alive!”

“it’s not like he was dying,” mara rolls her eyes, but joins in on the hug anyway. the rest crowd in, reaching under arms and over heads to offer zuko their greetings. “but yeah, we were worried.”

“worried sick!” kook exclaims, wrapping her arms from behind. “aw, we should let you rest.” immediately do they begin to pull apart, untangling the puzzle of their arms. 

“no, i’ve been in bed all day, i’d rather not go back to sleep,” zuko chuckles softly, following them out the living room. they return to the couches and mats, where, on either side of the pai sho board, daito and jang took their places. “who’s winning?”

jang raises his hand eagerly. “i am.”

“no, he’s not,” haku laughs. 

“zuko, you said you had a strange dream,” iroh recalls, sitting on the couch in front of the table with a cup of steaming tea in hand. “what happened?”

“well,” he scratches his head. “i was running, and then i was fighting the avatar, and then i was fire lord sozin. i saw my father, and then i drowned, and i talked to avatar roku.” pausing in their steps--daito and jang, in their pai sho game; haku, in biting his fruit; and iroh, in sipping his tea. 

“avatar roku? you talked to him?” feng asks. “ _ the  _ avatar roku?”

“he was talking about him and my great-grandfather sozin, how they were fighting,” zuko says, taking the offered piece of fruit from haku. “and about how their fight has changed me, and that i should remember my drive and who i am.”

“sounds very spiritual,” jang mumbles, moving a tile forward. “i thought only the avatar could do that, connect with past avatars.”

“zuko might be a special case, because,” iroh sets down his tea. “avatar roku is his other great-grandfather.”

* * *

not long after zuko’s recovery, knocking on their door is a messenger, informing them of the earth king requesting iroh’s presence in the morning. “the earth king?” zuko asks after daito closes the door. “why would the earth king want us?”

“zuko, it’s my life’s dream--the jasmine dragon is finally being recognized for its amazing tea brand,” iroh smiles gleefully, clasping his hands together. “serving the earth king tea--imagine all the great reviews we’d get. perhaps some sponsorship from the king himself.” the crew, watching iroh gush, offer a wave of congratulations. “zuko, you need to come with me, help represent our brand.”

“why not daito? he’s strong, tall, has more charm than me,” zuko suggests, despite jang’s offense and feng’s scoffs. “what? daito knows how to wear a suit.”

“zuko, you should go,” kook counters, helping daito mix up a bowl of batter to bake for their breakfast. “you’re the one who knows the most about the tea selections and pastries. you helped pick them out, after all.”

“yes, zuko, together we will meet the earth king,” iroh continues, grabbing the boy by his shoulders. “he’ll ask us to serve some tea, and you’d say  _ what kind?  _ and he’d say, _ what do you suggest? _ and you’d say  _ get this, it’s good _ \--oh, i should bring some tea samples, too!” the retired general hurries off, ecstatic about tea and kings, and zuko sighs, returning to his room to change into his uniform. 

  
  


“iroh?” haku peeks open the door, but the uncle swings it open, heaving hard as he marches into the living room. he drops the teapot and cups on the table with a loud clatter. “what’s wrong? where’s zuko?”

“azula took him,” iroh pants, wiping his forehead. the crew, scattered around the kitchen and couches, stand upright at the news. “there’s no time, i have to go back and get him. you must go back to the ship, get it ready to leave.”

“but zuko--” feng stutters, watching kook grab her bags and daito the tea. “--we can’t just leave him! i wanna come with you.”

“feng, it’s dangerous, you know that,” kook reminds, grabbing his wrist. “zuko can handle his sister, he’s done it before. if we show up, we might end up getting hurt and making the situation worse.”

iroh, already heading out, shuts the door behind him, despite feng’s protests. 

  
  


toph opens the apartment door to smile a greeting at iroh, but sensing his heartbeat, she realizes his moment of distress. “iroh? where’s your nephew lee?”

“please, i need your help.” at that, aang and sokka crowd the door, spotting the old man. “princess azula is here in ba sing se.”

they back away from the door, allowing iroh inside. aang speculates gravely, “she must have katara.”

“she has my nephew as well.”

“which one?” sokka asks. 

  
  


“enjoy your stay, zuzu,” azula smiles, closing the door behind her. zuko falls to a grunt, hissing at the scratches marring his skin. 

katara, from the other side of the cave, turns with a fearful stance, and sighs in relief at the sight of the prince. she runs over, kneeling down beside him. “lee! you’re here, are you okay?”

“i’m okay.” sitting upright, he runs a hand through his hair. “are you okay? why are you here?”

“i could ask the same for you,” katara counters, only now spotting the scar burnt onto the prince’s face. she says nothing, looking away. 

“azula trapped me and my uncle,” zuko explains. “i’m guessing she did the same to you. is the avatar safe?”

“i don’t know, he left to learn more about his avatar state,” she informs. “he’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

sitting together, they wait in silence, katara for aang’s arrival and zuko for iroh’s. clenching his jaw in frustration, he imagines iroh’s panic, his worry, while katara, gazing up at the crystals lining the cave, wonders if aang even knows. then, suddenly, she recalls azula’s words. “why did she call you that? zuzu?”

“it’s…” he pauses, cross between thanking azula and cursing her. then again, zuzu is better than zuko. “my middle name.”

“hm,” she bites back any lapse of judgement. “but why would she be after you?” katara asks, shifting in her seat. “you’re just cousins.”

he chuckles at the comment, only now realizing how far their lies have taken him. at katara’s confused glance, he rubs the back of his neck. “uh, well, that side of the family, i guess, isn’t so estranged. we lived with them in the fire palace. i don’t know, i guess she wants payback for me leaving.”

“why did you leave?”

he shrugs. “study abroad, selling tea.” he catches her staring, and with a relenting sigh, he brushes the hair behind his ear. “i know it’s not much of a looker.”

“no, i just,” she excuses herself, looking away. “i’m sorry. i just--i was just wondering--i don’t wanna intrude, i just--”

“it was from an accident.” she quiets. and his hair slips back into place. “before i left the fire nation. i don’t mind it as much now. it...reminds me.”  _ remember your place, zuko. this is what you are. this is what you did _ . those were the words ozai offered, staring down at the bandages wrapped around the boy’s face. 

katara pulls out a vial. “i took this from the spirit oasis at the north pole.” in the reflective light, the water gleams brightly. “it has special properties, so i’ve been saving it...maybe, if you’d like, i could try and heal your scar.”

she reaches her hand, slow and beckoning, and for a moment, zuko considers it. for a moment, he considers wiping it all away. the mark of a banished prince. chained to an impossible destiny. maybe then, the pain would go away, the weight on his chest. but he pulls away, lowering her hand with his own. “i think you should keep saving it.”

before katara can protest, the cave wall crumbles open, with two figures cutting through the dust. katara darts up, running towards the avatar. “aang!” 

zuko does the same, ushering in a tight embrace with his uncle. “you went to the avatar.”

“i figured this time,  _ we  _ ask  _ them  _ for help,” iroh smiles. the embrace is cut short when, tightly wrapping around zuko from the back, aang joins in. 

“lee, sweet lee, i missed you,” aang smiles, burying his head in the prince’s uniform. “ah, you smell like tea.” they break apart, proud smiles all around. “i’m glad you’re here, because your cousin azula is taking over ba sing se.”

“yes, my cousin,” zuko notes, exchanging a glance with iroh. “if you’re asking for my help, i’m all for it.” aang beams, and together they begin escaping out the tunnel. 

they manage a few steps in until iroh yells behind them. they turn, meeting azula’s unimpressed eyes, and zuko orders the avatar up ahead, “hurry, get out of here, aang.”

“but le--”

“go!” he shouts, eyes urgently darting up at them. “i’ll hold them back. just go.”

  
  


the avatar and his friend gone, zuko turns to azula, sizing her up with a glare. “release him. you have me.”

the princess shakes her head, red lips pulling into a smirk. “no, i don’t have you yet,” she says. behind her, the two dai li agents watch him intently. “but i’ll give you one last chance to redeem yourself.”

“the redemption she offers is not for you,” iroh reminds, trapped in the crystals. “remember that.”

“i think i’d rather let zuko decide for himself, uncle,” she spares an annoyed glance at the old man. “you are too desperate to keep zuko to yourself. you believe he loves you, zuko, but he’s too busy thinking of his son.” at her unsympathetic tone, the prince clenches his fist tight, gritting his teeth. “but enough about him, we need to talk about you.”

“what about me?”

“i need you, zuko,” she begins, smile growing. “i’ve plotted every moment of this day, this--” she makes a fist in victory. “--glorious day in fire nation history. the only way we win is together. and at the end of this day, you will have your honor back. you will have father’s love. everything you will ever want.”

“i’m afraid you’re already too late,” iroh mutters. zuko knows that well. 

but azula, ignoring iroh’s protests, brushes past the prince. behind her, the dai li agents retreat. “you are free to choose.”

but zuko already knows what he will choose. iroh’s words of guidance fall silent, because he, too, knows, and sparing a soft  _ see you, uncle _ and a  _ be safe, zuko _ , the prince hurries down the tunnel after his sister and the avatar. 

  
  


azula lands between aang and katara, pointing her fingers at either one of them. they stand idly, waiting for her next move while plotting their own. katara shifts in her steps, aang squints through the sweat running down his temple, and azula smirks, blue fire charging. but amongst the green and blue hues, a blast of orange draws their attention, rising with a raging smoke. 

zuko stands, warm and heaving, feeling the weight and the urgency altogether. clenching his fist, he feels his own fire, brighter than ever before. he stands bold, but inside a jittery mess--counting down the seconds before the moment of confidence ends, before he loses it all over again. joining the standoff, aang directs zuko’s focus on azula with a tilt of his head, while the other does the same with an expectant gaze. but zuko hardens his gaze, just as the dai li agents file in, and, reeling his arm back, he aims another dart of fire towards azula. 

they all break apart, scattering to their own sides, and azula, eyeing zuko as the prince guards aang, settles with a displeased grunt. “i see how it is, zuzu.”

“i’ll take care of azula,” zuko decides, despite aang’s furrowed gaze. “you need to focus on getting out of here.” fists glowing red, he steps forward. “don’t bother changing my mind.” 

he pulls off on a start, charging towards his sister as aang and katara handle the dai li agents. azula advances as well, her smile growing, and, throwing both fists forward, a line of fire shoots out. anticipating the attack, zuko shifts his feet and drags his arm behind him, sliding under her blue flames. he attempts to sweep her feet, but azula draws back one foot and raises the other, before backing away. 

“you chose the avatar,” azula criticizes, sighing with a disappointed shake of her head. “i should have known. you’ve grown soft. misguided. you forget your place.”

_ you forget your place, zuko _ . his skin burns, his eyelid pinching, and he swallows down the rage. “i didn’t choose him,” he growls as she swings her arm down, neglecting his words and issuing a line of fire. he dodges, and behind him, katara shouts at aang to  _ watch out. _ “and i forget nothing.”

“then you remember my strength.” he does, surely, as she drives forward, fingers pointing. the blue fire shoots from all ranges as he dodges his left and right, before jumping high as she dips to sweep her leg. in the air, she aims, knocking him on his back with another stinging blast. as he falls, his hands bare, she nearly pauses in her approach. “and you remember our home, zuko.”

taking on a sympathetic approach, she sighs in contempt. “you’re lost. let me guide you, zuko.” lucky for him, katara and aang are out of earshot. “whatever reason iroh tells you to help the avatar, it’s a lie. don’t you miss home?” zuko bounces on his feet, responding with two quick blasts. she jumps and dodges, flipping backwards, and returns the exchange with a ball of blue flame. taking his silence, she smirks. “i see.”

they circle each other, eyes locked. over zuko’s shoulder, azula spots the avatar and katara, handling each wave of dai li agents with wavering tenacity. zuko, fixated on azula, sinks into place as she runs toward him. raising his arm, he awaits her violet flames, but she jumps, stepping off his arms, and, twisting in midair, swends another sweep of blue to knock him off his feet from behind. zuko shouts from on the ground, “aang! watch out!”

aang jumps forward, sending crystals towards azula, but using the same trick, she leaps off each mound, landing behind him. far from the avatar and the prince, she grabs katara, threatening her neck with a light blue flame. aang growls, charging towards the princess. “let her go!”

“aang, no!” katara cries, but the avatar continues, sending a breath of wind to blow the flame out. in that moment, aang hurries, pushing off his feet with another gust of desperate air. but azula raises katara high, managing a wide arc of her leg and sending off a line of fire that blinds aang. as he stumbles back, earthbending a wall to protect himself, azula charges a bolt of lighting, breaking the crystals and just narrowly passing his face. 

the bolt tears through the ground behind him, nearly striking zuko as well. the prince, running towards them, spots azula preparing another blast, targeted for the unaware avatar. “aang!”

but to no avail. azula raises her leg high, and with a small grunt, stomps it back onto the ground. the blue fire snaps and cackles, spewing out from her foot and racing towards the avatar. it breaks through the crystals, and, catching aang off guard, knocks him back. the avatar tumbles across the ground, falling to zuko’s feet. 

“there,” azula pants, wrangling katara back into her grip. “i did it for you. now is your chance--”

“aang, get up!” katara cries. azula covers her mouth, focusing on zuko once more. 

a desperate demand. she shouts, “kill him! you know what to do!”

“no, don’t!” muffled behind azula’s hand, katara watches, hopeless. 

the avatar, scratched and hurting, stares up at him in desperation; the fear taking over, the disbelief shining in those grey eyes. in that moment between azula’s shouts and katara’s pleads, zuko sees it--his destiny, shining off aang’s exhausted tears, and the fire raging in his hands.  _ i have a vision for the future _ .  _ the world needs us, zuko _ . in his idle feet, he wonders,  _ what am i here? roku? sozin? _ aang, raising an arm between them, whispers in the middle of his confusion, “please, don’t, lee.”

and zuko raises his arms, the fire growing, nearly losing its hue. katara screams once more and azula shouts again, and, watching the avatar, zuko sees aang spare a tearful gaze back at katara, exchanging a wordless goodbye. 

“what are you waiting for?!” he watches, the love between them clearer than before, and he gazes in on himself, the love for him clearer than ever before. the love from a mother and from a father, a father who could say  _ i love you back _ and recite good tea jokes, a father who was more than the uncle he saw him to be. the love between wordless gestures, late nights and early mornings, pats on the back and a roundabout embrace. this love, this calming bond, this peaceful love, zuko sees, watches, and, closing his eyes, he chooses. 

“i said, zu--”

zuko yells. he drops his arms, shutting his eyes tight. aang breathes in relief, katara’s struggling picks up again, and in a wavering voice, zuko decides, with a sorrow gaze down at the boy, “i can’t.”

pausing, he looks down at himself, feeling azula’s gaze on him. biting his lips, he tests the timing and raises his fingers, hearing the crackles start up again. looking up, the lighting charges toward him, faster than anticipated, and he takes it on with a hitched breath, feeling the buzz travel through him. buzz, chaotic like swarming customer orders and jet li’s smirks and azula’s breaking smile, all pinching his skin and his chest; it unravels and ravels throughout him until he points it back. the charge travels, shooting out of his fingertips, and with it, all the drive he has left. 

azula dodges and zuko collapses, feeling the remnants of the charge stinging around his chest. seething, azula cackles, just as aang climbs to his feet. “you’re pathetic.” sparing a glance at the waterbender, she takes her by the neck. “i’ll take care of the avatar myself.”

before aang can react, azula slams katara into the crystal wall behind them, the waterbender crying out in pain, and in her last moments of pity, the princess throws katara to the ground, a triumphant smile plastered across her face. aang yells, eyes glowing, arrows lighting up. “no!”

aang rises, the fury climbing, and with a flick of his wrist, the crystals encase azula. turning to the dai li agents, he wipes them out, wave by wave, using the water between them. zuko, weak on his feet, makes his way towards katara. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” katara rubs her head. “what about you?”

“i’m fine,” zuko replies, giving her space as she stood upright. ”sorry about almost killing aang.”

“i know, what was that about?” she narrows her eyes, though weary to take on another firebender. 

“it’s nothing, i’m just...she gets in my head,” he says. for good measure, he adds, “azula does that to people. she just...makes them doubt what they want.” the ground quivers, and, behind them they hear crystals shattering.  _ speak of the devil. _ “oh, no.”

they turn, just as azula breaks free in a fury of blue, blinding light. zuko shields the waterbender behind him, breaking the flame with a soft burst of his own, but leaping out of the smoke is azula, darting towards the avatar, as he hits dai li agents to and fro. katara, sending a tower of water to snatch the princess by the ankle, pulls her down. but on her descent, zuko can see it--blue light, flickering, hardening, pouring from her fingertips in a static climb; katara shouts once more, zuko curses, and aang, his back turned, feels the jolt as his eyes lose their glow. 

“katara, can you--”

“i tried, i already tried,” the waterbender snaps, biting back her tears. sokka falls silent, burying his head in his hands, and zuko sits amongst them, heavy at the destiny he failed to deny. the wind strikes through them and appa moans under the weight of all eight of them. 

“wait,” zuko nudges the girl, pointing at her vial. “use it.”

she snatches it, tugging it off its string, and clears it of its last drop immediately. she pulls aang onto her lap, letting his lightning wound breathe, and, sparing a sympathetic glance at zuko and his scar, settles the water on aang’s skin. they wait for a moment, watching the spirit water lose its glow. in the growing silence, zuko scorns it, as katara covers her mouth with a shaky hand, sokka peeks through his hair with a stressful sigh, and toph, denying it all, holds tight on the boy’s arm. he looks to iroh, expecting an answer-- _ just wait, zuko,  _ or  _ give him space _ \--but his uncle watches solemnly. 

and in the aching peace zuko wonders what he could’ve done. he chose right, didn’t he? he looks to his uncle, to the avatar, to the awaiting sokka.  _ isn’t this what i choose?  _ that moment with azula--her, screaming, and him, standing over aang, crossing between dream and reality; he recalls,  _ but what am i? you’re just a kid _ . aang is just a kid, zuko knows, wringing his hands together at the sight of the boy laid out and wounded. he wonders, through it all--aang’s silent breaths, katara’s shaking hands, toph’s hopeless “ _ aang _ ?”, and sokka’s denying hands running through his hair--if this was his hesitance.

but then, it comes--a flicker of light. the avatar’s arrows glow, sparking their relief, and their hope rises as aang groans, shifting in katara’s arms to gift her a smile. they hold each other, tight, and zuko smiles.

  
  


“are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?” sokka asks as iroh and zuko jump off, landing on the jasmine dragon. iroh greets jee with a strong handshake and a nod, just before the crew surrounds him with their worried arms. 

zuko stares up at them, sparing a last glance at the exhausted and sleeping avatar. “don’t worry. azula will think you’ll be with me. i’ll lead her off your trail.”

sokka, though unsure, nods along. hardening his gaze, he states with an unbreakable promise, “we  _ will  _ meet again. right?”

zuko nods, taking it. “now go.”


	3. fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (please bear with me this chapter is really long)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to add that i made cover art for this fanfic! you can find it at https://coolpbeans.tumblr.com/post/624396614400966657/cover-art-for-an-atla-fanfic-i-just-finished
> 
> anyways, i wont try to make this note too long but thank you for reading, whoever has made it this far! i haven't written fanfics in a long time but the prompt i found on tumblr was just very inspiring and full of so many opportunities. the 250+ long fanfic you're reading here is a product of around 1 month of writing and another of proof-reading, and i'm so glad to finally show everyone! i really hoped you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it!

after the fall of ba sing se, the jasmine dragon cleared out of the docks at high speed. the few days following that, keeping a watchful eye at sea, consisted of a brooding zuko and an out-of-business teahouse with no customers aboard. oftentimes the crew found zuko sitting on the upper deck, watching the waves pass the ship by and recede behind them with a solemn gaze. 

“i don’t understand,” feng complains, climbing onto the upper deck with two cups of pudding in hand--haku’s home recipe. zuko takes the cup, silently. “you helped the avatar, started firebending again, beat your sis up, so what’s the problem?”

“aang almost died,” zuko states. _or rather, he actually did._ he doesn’t bother to disprove feng’s two points--he barely firebended and azula, though failing, suffered no beating from him. “and it’s my fault because i hesitated, because...i considered hurting him, for a moment.”

“i thought that whole capturing-the-avatar thing was over,” feng says, scooping a spoonful of pudding.

“i--i don’t know, it was just, i was looking down at aang, and it reminded me of the dream i had,” zuko recalls, pausing to try the pudding. _sweet_. “where i was sozin and i was...hurting avatar roku. i don’t know if it’s like how roku said, like either of them taking over me for their own reasons, or maybe it was just all me, being selfish again.”

“hey,” the engineer nudges him in the shoulder. “don’t think like that. if you keep beating your old self up, who’s gonna beat up your sis? and your dad?”

zuko scoffs, bumping him back. “nice advice.” looking up, he spots through the misty grey clouds, a dark figure cutting through the waters. “oh no.”

they jump off the upper deck, meeting jee and iroh at the bridge. “something’s wrong.”

iroh nods, and, looking out, zuko notices more figures advancing in on them from the horizon, arriving fast. gravely, he looks back at zuko. “it’s azula.”

  
  


the dai li board the jasmine dragon, dragging the crew down to their knees with their earthbending gloves. azula steps on the ship, offering no smile, no smirk, no mocking laughs. she cuts through the restrained crew members, sparing no look or snicker, and heads right for the three men outside the bridge. she stops in front of them, fixated on iroh and zuko. 

zuko begins. “let them go.”

“you’re in no place to make demands,” azula sneers. looking back at a dai li agent, they nod, forcing zuko and iroh to their feet. looking between prince and general, she reaches with a clawed hand, having the dai li drag iroh before her. blue fire blazing, cold and biting, she holds her fingertips to iroh’s neck, the old man resentful. “but i am.”

“what do you want?” the prince asks, albeit too eagerly. she doesn’t listen. “whatever you want. just let them go.”

“good, you’re cooperating,” she nods, breaking into a smile. then, with her free hand, she offers, “come home. with me.”

iroh shakes his head, zuko glares, but recalling the last time azula struck iroh, he nods, just as desperate. “is that all?” her smile widens, humming a small _uh-uh_. “fine. but if i go, i go alone.”

“again, you’re in no position to make demands,” azula reminds, smiling wicked at zuko’s grimace. she hands iroh to the dai li and, nodding once more to an agent, the earthbending grip loosens. “i hope you remember that.” azula cuts her way across the deck once more, this time iroh and zuko on her tail. halfway through, she turns to the crew with a pitiful smile. “oh, how rude of me, stealing your two employees right under your noses.” she steps back onto her own ship, retreating to the bridge. “i’ll leave you two to say your goodbyes.”

under the dai li’s watchful eyes, zuko sighs. jang struggles once more in his place. mara whimpers. the prince, hesitantly, says, “i’m sorry about all of this. i’ll make sure you won’t be targeted again.”

nodding, iroh tries a smile. “remember, you have a shipment at onai. don’t forget.”

and altogether, the dai li and the royal family step off the jasmine dragon. 

  
  


katara cradles the side of aang’s face, a smile passing between the two of them. she says, “you need to rest.”

at first, aang complies, but after katara having ‘untwisted’ his energy, he recalls a firebender, raven-haired, struck by lighting. “lee!” everyone snaps their head at that. “lee, he saved me too, i need to go back.”

“go back?” katara nervously looks back at sokka and toph, their worried glances. “aang--they got out of ba sing se with us. we dropped them off at their ship; lee’s leading azula away from us.”

“no, i can’t leave him behind,” aang worries. “what if azula found them already? what if she hurt him?” katara looks back sokka, spotting his anxious foot tapping. 

“aang, let’s calm down,” katara eases him back down into a seat. “you need rest.”

exhausted, the avatar falls asleep, and katara leaves the boy alone in his blanket. stalking over to sokka and toph, the water tribe boy says, “he’s right. i don’t like the idea of leaving lee behind if we don’t have any way of knowing he’s safe.”

“i don’t like it either, but we have a plan now,” katara reminds him. “stopping to see if lee’s okay--which, he probably us--will take a lot of time. and sozin’s comet is coming closer, and aang’s still recovering.”

sokka crosses his arms, but toph, between them, relaxes the tension. “i know, we all miss lee’s tea. but tea can wait.” 

  
  


“aren’t you happy to see me?” zuko stands in front of the window, sparing no glance back at mai. she draws closer, touching the back of his hand with her fingertips. “i thought you would be.”

zuko sighs, letting their fingers slip together, and, gently, he pulls her to his side. smiling at her, he says, “you’re the only person here i’m glad to see.”

mai smiles at that, leaning into his grasp, but zuko, furrowing his eyebrows, stares back out the window. “you’re worried about your uncle, aren’t you?” at that, he shakes his head, focusing on their hands. “you can be honest. i’m not another one of azula’s spies.”

he nods, yes, he knows that. but he pulls away, uttering a soft goodbye. stalking down the foreign halls he half-remembers and half-forgets, he finds himself in the palace garden, centered around the wide fountain that he once inadvertently pushed mai in. he passes the fountain, kneeling down by the turtle duck pond with the bread he saved from his breakfast. 

“you seem so downcast,” azula says, announcing her arrival. “has mai gotten to yo--”

“why did you bring me here?” zuko interrupts, casting an indifferent gaze up at the princess. “if anything, i thought you would’ve gone for the avatar’s friends.”

at the interruption, azula purses her lips, biting back a remark. instead, as zuko turns back to the pond, she asks, “why would i? the avatar’s dead, isn’t he?”

zuko pauses, throwing another crumb of bread in the pond. a turtle duck hurries toward it, squeaking lightly. the water flows between them, back and forth, and in the bright sunlight, it nearly glows. “yes,” he responds. “he is.”

after fighting off the fire navy ship, aang and co dock at a port, having almost sunken their ship. upon docking, sokka scouts the area and latches onto the sight of a familiar ship--tapestries and tea incense and all--with a loud, laughing yell. “lee! guys, it’s the teahouse!”

at the commotion, aang peeks out of his room, despite katara’s protests at him being spotted, and yells just the same at the sight. “lee! we have to see him!”

“no, aang,” katara grounds him, sternly guiding him back to his room. “you can’t risk being seen. we’ll bring lee over here.” the boy stubbornly protests. “aang, it’s not worth it.”

eventually, aang ceases, retreating to his room and his sulking, and by then, sokka has already run down the length of the dock. reaching the teahouse in its green and brown glory, he shouts, “lee! lee, you there?”

met by silence, sokka considers shouting the tea server’s name once more, but jang peeks his head down at sokka, greeting the boy with a grave shake of his head. confused, the watertribe boy climbs aboard, and finds the rest of the crew--kook, jee, haku, daito, and feng--all minding him the same. no firebender or uncle in sight, sokka steps back, hands dropping. “no, no.”

  
  


“can’t this wait until morning?” azula says, eyes still shut to keep the lull of sleep. 

“no, it can’t.” zuko stands over the bed, having just met his father after two years of banishment. really, the encounter was nothing spectacular; everything zuko once pictured his father saying-- _i’m proud of you son_ , _you slayed the avatar, son_ \--when he was busy pursuing the avatar. the fire crazed in the palace, nearly as warm enough as touch--a pat on the back, a trace of his scar, or, perhaps, an embrace. everything as expected, except this time, zuko knew he did not kill the avatar, despite what credit his father gave him; and except this time, the only embrace that would relieve him, was that of his uncle’s. his uncle, who azula last said was in prison.

the princess opens her eyes, sighing in discontent. “fine. you seemed so worried about how father would treat you because you didn’t capture the avatar. i figured if i gave you the credit, you'd have nothing to worry about.”

it’s a lie, of course, and azula smiles throughout it, because they both know--zuko, dreadingly--that news of zuko assisting the avatar would sit worse on the fire lord’s shoulders. azula shrugs, continuing, “call it a generous gesture. i just couldn’t bear watching father go hard on you for making the wrong choice.”

“you could easily turn me in and take all the glory yourself,” zuko says, but azula scoffs at that.

“that would ruin all the fun.”

“why?”

her smile growing, just as his dread spreads. _she knows_. “you know why.”

he stands idle, fighting back the worry taking over. he asks, “then why haven’t you gone after the avatar yet? if you know he’s alive?”

the princess sighs, easing herself back to sleep. “because i know that in the end, you’ll do it anyway.”

zuko leaves, retiring to his own room. his neck burns, the skin pinching, and he bites it all back until he closes his door behind him. _azula always lies_.

while the avatar and his friends head for the rendevous point for the upcoming invasion, hakoda directs the ship on his own separate mission (involving a list with sokka’s writing), with the jasmine dragon tailing just behind him. feng stares back at the teahouse, bitter in the ongoing silence. no chatter, no prince to bug, no uncle iroh to praise. 

“feng, stop sulking,” kook scolds, handing him a cup of tea. “you’re making me sad.”

the engineer sighs, directing his attention to the meeting in the bridge. “what d’ya think they’re talking about?”

“aren’t you supposed to be in that meeting?” kook asks. “to tell them about the ships, right?”

“not just about the ships. you know i also worked with ground forces, right?” feng shrugs. “the tundras tanks aren’t new news. i just explained the counterbalancing system and that’s pretty much it. i’m just dead weight now.” shaking her head, kook offers a hand, and, setting down his tea, feng takes it. “fine.”

the topic of discussion was one they’d been mulling over since meeting the teahouse at their last stop; at the sight of both sokka and the avatar’s distraught faces, daito--pushed forth by an encouragingly stern pat on the back from jee--stumbled to explain, quite hurriedly and with little thought, “uh, well, prince zuko--yeah! him, the prince, he heard something about, uh, lee teaching the avatar firebending, so...he took him, to learn for himself!” then, for added measure, “because his firebending sucks, yeah.”

it sat horribly on the crews’ shoulders, more so on aang’s, and after the avatar and co left to meet at the rendezvous point, jee offered, just as hurriedly and with little thought, to hakoda, “if you’re going to storm the fire nation, i have a crew willing to assist. you’ve got two ex-fire nation soldiers, an engineer who knows warships inside and out, and a couple more runts that can handle a lunch rush.”

together, feng and kook near the bridge, joining the half circle of rebels and freedom fighters surrounding the door with hesitant smiles. they sit on the crates, listening as jee and hakoda crowd the map. only now taking notice of said half circle, the duo steps out. 

“so, are we in?” kook asks. the discussion of squeezing in the teahouse was surely taking long. 

“it’s apparent that the fire nation most likely won’t recognize your new ship. now with no one connected to the royal family aboard, you have a high chance of passing through the fire navy’s patrol unnoticed,” hakoda suggests, despite feng and kook’s dismay at the reminder. “if that works, your teahouse will initiate the first step of our plan without the fire nation even realizing.”

feng chuckles and kook, at the sound, smiles. “i kinda like playing the spy.”

“good,” hakoda says, pulling out his list. “first, we have to gather all these allies my son gave us a list of.” said list falls halfway to his feet. “in the meantime, i think we should start doing some redecorating.”

“redecorating?”

hakoda, after rolling up the list, walks to the stern, paying a glance at the teahouse trailing behind the ship. then, at the teaservers, he asks, “how do you feel about the name, _the oolong lizard?_ ”

  
  


“okay, here we go, going into the fire nation,” daito narrates, nervously pulling at his red collar. looking at a similarly anxious feng, he asks, “it--it can’t be that easy, right? just passing through?”

the question is shortlived as the teahouse nears the fire navy ships patrolling the area. jee directs the ship to stop just beside the fire navy ship, and, stepping off, the commander eyes the crew in suspicion. “what business do you have in the fire nation?”

daito, wiping his forehead, bows feverishly. “great commander, we are in, we, uh--”

“we have a shipment,” kook steps forward, her shaking hands hiding behind her back. “w-we’re a traveling teahouse and we have to restock on supplies.”

“i don’t recall ever letting an _oolong lizard_ pass through the area before,” the commander suspects, walking about the deck. “i’ve been on patrol for years now. and i’m sure if i was to ask other commanders in the area, they’d say the same.”

“we apologize, commander, it’s just, we’re on a strict schedule,” feng steps forward, a warm pot of tea in his hands. daito, beside him, nods in agreement. “yes, very strict. this is a family business. our family is one of the richest on capital island.” stuttering in his words, he looks to an unresponsive daito for help. “w-we have a booming business to attend to, and surely you wouldn’t want to face charges if we’re kept from an important shipment?”

the commander eyes them wearily, though reluctant to follow in feng’s words and face ‘charges’. behind him, however, a soldier approaches, asking in a low voice, “doesn’t general iroh own a traveling teahouse? these people could be helping him escape from prison.”

daito, feng, and kook stand timidly. the commander, once more eyeing the _nobles_ in suspicion, grabs the teapot from feng’s shaky hands, drinking a swig of tea. a choking cough, and he spits it out, and with it, “this is shit tea. general iroh would not associate with their kind.” regaining his composure, he wipes the tea on his chin. “let them pass.”

“wait,” jang calls out before the commander can hurry off the teahouse. he steps closer, chest rising under his soldier uniform, and says, hushed, “i’ve been escorting the family teahouse for a long time now. surely, you’d give me just a few days where i’m off this ship?” on jang’s cue, the crew pick up their act, snootily remarking about their great tea and business.

and the commander, rubbing his temple, offers his mercy. turning to his soldiers, he says, “let him on the ship.” jang bites back a cheer as the commander, says, “i’m impressed with you, boy. i wouldn’t last a week out with them.”

as the oolong lizard sails into the fire nation, daito, wiping the sweat off his temple, breathes a sigh of relief. “well, that was easy.”

  
  


“...lighten up. so dad wants to meet with his advisers alone,” azula had said, shrugging as the ferry docked. “don’t take it personally.”

that was azula’s advice a week and a half ago, when they first stepped off on ember island. zuko, huffing a breath at the strands of hair in front of his scar, gritted through his teeth, “i think i will.”

“oh,” ty lee noted, excitement draining at zuko and mai’s combined pessimism. “right.”

“whatever, well,” azula said, pulling an expectant smile on her face. “zuko, out of all of us, i expect you to have the most fun.”

“why’s that?” mai asked. 

“because, you’ll finally be realizing what you’ve been missing since you were banished,” azula exclaimed, mimicking an excited cheer as ty lee did before. “look, you already have one thing.” she pointed at his hands, entangled with mai’s, and mocked in her sweet voice, “oh, love.”

“shut up,” zuko grumbled. “i can’t wait to get away from here. so much sun.”

“wow, props to you for criticizing everything in sight,” mai remarked blandly. “even i didn’t think of that.”

that was nearly two weeks ago. the days following that consisted of: beach, sand, volleyball, and lo and li. today is not much of a change. boys and girls alike crowd around ty lee while azula and mai sit tight under the sun, attempting to ignore the grains of sand sneaking into the sleeves of their clothes. zuko, under a wide black umbrella, returns with a sandwich in hand. azula twists her nose at the messily-arranged food. “where’d you get that?”

“i made it,” zuko shrugs, sitting down beside mai, who speculates the sandwich with the same dissatisfied face. “i’m hungry.”

“if you wanted food, you should’ve asked the servants for some,” azula remarks, brushing the sand off her shoulders. “or, i’m sorry, i guess your two years at sea really did turn you into a... _sailor_.”

zuko rolls his eyes at the argument, having heard it before when the princess nagged him with a haircut. _your bangs cloud your face,_ she’d said. _it’s far too unkempt._ beside him, mai offers a napkin, as she says, “i quite like the hair. it’s messy, like a dog.” 

the comment settles on zuko’s irritated shoulders as he grumbles and bites through his sandwich. azula cringes at the sight, instead looking to ty lee, who giggles at the broad boy in front of her. unamused by both sights on either side of her--zuko’s greasy sandwich and ty lee’s social life--azula’s grimace deepens, and zuko chuckles. between his bites, he chortles out, more to her displeasure, “you’re right, i am having fun.”

the princess picks at the sand by her feet, an annoyed laugh breaking through. “good, then we can get off this sandy place faster. we’ve been here for nearly two weeks now.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“we’re not here just because father’s having his war meetings,” azula informs. “we’re here because father’s just now noticing your lack of manners around the palace. making your own food, never leaving your room, skipping meetings,” azula lists. “i had to speak for you and explain that your time away has...messed with your head. that, and being aboard with uncle iroh. he didn’t want your ‘confused’ self barging in and...interrupting his meetings again.” zuko clenches his jaw, the humid air blowing hot against his cheek. “well, that’s what _he_ said.”

finishing the last bite of his sandwich, zuko stands, crumpling the napkin and walking off to throw it away, despite azula’s protests to _have one of the servants do it instead_. from her seat, mai crosses her arms, avoiding azula’s eyes. “don’t look at me,” mai says. “i’m not the one who made him mad.”

the party is a bust, zuko decides after his first ten minutes attending. though the food is great--dumplings, just like jang liked them--and the other teens, in a sense, are great--the girl that makes some remark about his outfit, the boy that tells him his moves during the volleyball game were _sick_ \--zuko loses interest quickly, just as he did back at the beach, and back at the fire palace. on his way out the door, mai asks, _what, are you jealous?_ , to which zuko responds, staring at the guy beside her, _i’m sorry mai, i just don’t care._

with that, leaving mai with the boy and azula with another and ty lee with some fifteen, zuko returns to the beach house, where, on the porch, he stares out at the horizon. 

  
  


zuko remembers the beach. the hot sun a soft kiss on his skin, the light wind a caress carrying his laughs. he remembers his skin, untainted, and the bites of sand grains roughing up between his fingers. he remembers the hearty laughs, the strong arms, all holding him up high into the clouds, as he looked down at the smiling brown eyes of the man he called his uncle. yes, he remembers this beach, he remembers it all. 

but azula, for once, zuko decides, is right. he has forgotten his place. lost it, even, after all those years at sea. but he braves it tightly, like the marred skin on his face. the scar that azula often stares at, the scar that mai avoids, that iroh recalls. his mark, his reminder, the one remnant of the disgraceful past that ozai and azula overlooked when deciding to bring him here, when all he can think about is his uncle. 

when azula drags him back to the beach, zuko meets mai’s downcast eyes and takes her hands in a wordless apology. she nods, resting her head on his shoulder. azula mocks an _aww_ and smiles. “so cute.”

zuko scoffs, “not like you could understand.” 

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means, i saw you embarrass yourself in front of that boy,” zuko remarks. as azula scowls, ty lee shivers, and mai pulls him closer. “i’ll make a fire.”

“with what?”

he shrugs, making his way back to the beach house. “there’s plenty to burn in there.”

unbeknownst to the girls, behind his back, he flicks on a match with a snap of his thumb and quickly throws it onto the firewood as azula remarks about the boy she’d met, setting off a blazing fire. after having grouped up a bunch of old collections from the beachouse--a cheap collection of fans, some outdated calendars, pamphlets--the last thing zuko throws into the fire is, without a moment’s notice, the royal family portrait. ty lee, of all of them, sits upright at the sight. “what are you doing?”

“burning it.”

“why?” at the question, zuko shrugs, returning to his seat beside mai. “don’t you care?”

azula sneaks a glance at zuko, awaiting an answer to the question. for motive or for curiosity, zuko doesn’t care, and, looking back at her, he answers honestly. “no, i don’t.” ty lee makes a noise of disagreement. “don’t worry, there’s a thousand back at the palace.”

“yeah, but, your own family? you’d consider burning a picture of you and your family?” ty lee asks. 

at the abundance of questions, mai rolls her eyes. “we get it, ty lee, you’re the only one here with a functional family.” she crosses her arms. “don't make such a big show of it.”

“i’m sorry that i’m concerned about the fact that zuko’s okay with burning a picture of his parents and his sister,” ty lee says defensively. “if it were me, i--”

“look, ty lee, i’m sorry about burning the picture,” zuko apologizes, though carelessly, with a sigh. “i didn’t mean anything by it.”

“just get over it,” mai mutters. “not like you’re any different. you ran away from home.”

ty lee glares, her confusion dropping. “i ran away from home--”

“here we go again,” azula mumbles into the palm of her hand.

“--not because i had something against my family. i wanted to make something of myself, other than be part of a matched set,” ty lee explains, though the words fall silent at the careless snickers of azula and mai. as the tension grows, zuko eyes the fire, its crackles nearly buzzing. angrily, she growls, “you laugh like you understand! but you don’t! i grew up with six sisters who looked just like me. i didn’t even have my own name.” paying a bothered glance at mai, she edges, “at least i’m different now. i don’t see any of you making a move to leave your so-called unhappy lives, if you’re so loud about having it _worse_.”

“what do you call ‘making a move’?” mai criticizes. “getting ten boyfriends?” before ty lee can bother asking, mai goes on, “you couldn’t get enough attention as a kid, so you’re always looking for it now. is that the best you can do?”

“you think you’re better?” ty lee scoffs. mai clenches her jaw, looking aside. “always looking for something to criticize, because you want to make it clear that you don’t care, like your opinion actually matters. what do you have to explain that, other than an aura that is this dingy, pasty grey--”

“i don’t believe in auras.”

“i don’t care!” ty lee shouts in exasperation. “don’t you get it? nobody cares how little you think of something.”

“you do, that’s why you cry when azula tries to be honest about your floofy attitude.”

“guys, please,” zuko stands. the three girls stare up at him, just now remembering his presence. “do we really have to fight today?”

“we wouldn't even be here if you weren’t so sulky over the avatar,” azula reminds. “now look what you’ve done. pitting ty lee and mai against each other. it’s an easy fight.”

“don’t act like you’re higher than all of this, miss princess,” mai begins. and despite their past arguement, ty lee nods approvingly. azula crosses her arms and leans back, awaiting her own criticism. “you’ve been so strung up about being your father’s best girl that you’re only now realizing what a normal life you missed out on. you don’t even have the social skills to land a boyfriend on your own.”

“at least i wasn’t abandoned by my boyfriend at a party,” azula sneers, crossing her legs. “it’s almost sad how you and zuko have the same pessimistic attitude about everything and yet, he still doesn’t like you.” mai rolls her eyes. zuko, head buzzing, wrings his hands together. and through it all, the fire stays constant, never withering or blazing bright. it confuses him. “i mean really, how is that _im_ possible? oh, i know.”

“what do you know?” mai asks, an uncaring attitude. “you don’t, you just assume, so i’ll save you some teary confession. i was a rich, only child who got anything she wanted, as long as i behaved,” azula offers a mocking tilt of her head. “and i sat still, and i didn’t speak unless spoken to. my mother said i had to keep out of trouble. we had my dad’s political career to think about. did you know that? or were you right all over again, always so perfect?”

“what, you’re expecting a story from me now?” azula laughs. “about how i got so perfect?”

“you’re not perfect, mai was just joking,” zuko mumbles under his breath, breaking the rhythm of the multi-sided arguement.

at that comment, azula’s laugh dies down. ty lee sits, nearly content, and mai broods beside the prince. “fine, i’m not perfect, right? i can’t talk to boys, play volleyball like a normal kid?” the princess scoffs. “you think i don’t know that? that it’s always just a hair out of place? i couldn’t even get my own mother to love me.”

“probably because you got so power hungry like dad,” zuko retorts. the campfire is waning, burning through the collections and family portrait to ash. he’s worried now. 

“well, i won’t apologize for having to step up as the younger sister because you were so _soft_ ,” the princess mocks, brushing her hair over your shoulder. “you got that from mother. it was why father was always disappointed in you. or rather, you ended up always disappointing him.” zuko grumbles and mai, in pity, lays her hand over his. “even now, you still disappoint him. lying to his face.”

“you lied first,” zuko grits.

“what lie?” ty lee asks.

and azula’s smile widens, responding with an expectant gaze at zuko. he knows his choices--let azula talk, and risk her coming up with a bigger lie; or confess himself and face the judgement. watching the fire, he sighs, and says, “i fought azula. to protect the avatar.”

ty lee gasps. mai pulls away, scrutinizing the prince. azula cackles. “now, do you regret it? now, do you realize? helping the avatar was your biggest mistake yet. your biggest _disappointment_ yet.”

“zuko, you’d turn against your own nation?” mai asks. “why?”

“none of you would understand,” zuko responds. “not like i’d want you to, anyway.” over the fire, azula still laughs. 

“then why are they saying you killed the avatar?” ty lee questions. “why even bother coming back?”

“because zuko’s doing it for iroh. i told him to come home or else, well, he’d lose his precious uncle forever,” she muses. at his grim face, she adds, “i forgot to tell you, zuko, iroh’s doing just fine. aside from the fact that i told him you never wanted to see him again.”

“what?” zuko shouts and the campfire simmers. he stands upright, losing mai’s comfort. ”what did you do to him?”

“i told him you were finally realizing your place in the fire nation,” azula responds, a smug calm against zuko’s rage. the fire cackles, his neck burns, and the pain, pinching on his chest, makes him seethe. “that you called him selfish for trying to replace his son with you.”

uttering no other words, zuko bites back his fire, instead turning and leaving it to fade. behind him, mai remarks critically, _do you always have to make the people around you mad?_

  
  


trailing behind him, azula shouts once more. “zuko!” they’re far from the campfire now, having left mai and ty lee to themselves. “zuko, come back. where do you think you’re going?”

“just leave me alone!” he yells. instead, azula runs, catching up to him on the sand. “get away from me.”

“why, what’s so bad?” azula asks, cross between a tease and an insult. “was it what i said about iroh? it was just a—“

“no, it’s about us,” zuko faces her. at the honest reply, azula steps back, quiet, her teases hitching. in this moment, zuko stands over her, the moonlight drawing his shadow over her shoulders. “we could’ve had a normal childhood together. be brother and sister to each other.” she scoffs. 

“what does that matter?” azula asks. “there’s no normalcy for us. we had a mother who was afraid of her own husband and daughter. a father that burnt his own son’s face off—“

“and that doesn’t bother you?” he asks, desperate to prove himself. “it doesn’t?”

“what, does it make me want to side with you even after you betray the fire nation?” the princess scoffs at her own question. zuko stands persistent, and she narrows her eyes. “you don’t get it. you think you can try to be the bigger brother now that you’ve grown some courage? because you’re finally fighting for yourself?” she mocks. at his hardened gaze, she steels her own, offering her own share of honesty, “we’ll never be _normal_ together because you failed.”

“i didn’t—“

“you failed and i--”

“azula, i--”

“because you were supposed to be responsible, you were supposed to be better, and you weren’t supposed to leave me!” azula yells, heaving hard. and the prince steps back, just an inch, and her hands find their way to her mouth. then, relenting, she points at him, loudly declaring, “you left me.”

azula always lied. she always laughed, tricking him with the smallest things, tearing apart finger paintings, throwing rocks at the turtle ducks just for the jokes, pointing fingers at his anger and fear. it was always a challenge, always some proof, always the winner and the loser; a nightmare, the flames, the smile, and mother, sad and gone. zuko wishes she could admit her faults, he wishes he can scream them back at her himself, but those wide eyes, those shaking hands, those heavy breaths—he knows, deep down, it’s not a lie. just this once. and, with an aching sigh, he chooses wrong. he bites back his words. 

“for whatever stupid reason you can blame it on, you spoke up, even though you knew you weren’t supposed to. and father sent you away and i was alone.” she turns away. “and he put it all on me, to be better, because he didn’t want to deal with another disappointment, so i did. i was better.” promptly, she wipes the corner of her eyes, before meeting zuko’s. “so, that’s your fault.”

“i—“

“don’t even think about saying sorry,” she interrupts. “i don’t want your pity.”

“it’s not pity, it’s an apology,” zuko says, holding out a hand. but she doesn’t take it. “i guess you’re right. i was supposed to be there for you. especially after mom left.” biting back a response, she nods, staring at the sand. “and i know that between us, we both did wrong. but i want to make it up. to both of us.”

“nothing will make it up,” azula mutters. “the damage is already done.” as zuko contemplates another response, she looks up over his head, eyes narrowing. “zuko.”

“what? i—ah!” such a familiar feeling, that of hands grappling around his waist and pulling him up and over. glaring at his kidnapper, he halts in his aggression at the sight of a tired, sleep-deprived avatar. “oh. aang.”

“zuko!” azula shouts from down on the beach. however, as the distance between them increases, she stays put, resentment decided. “that’s it, then.”

azula walks back to the campsite, shrinking down to a small dot as appa flies away. zuko, though stuck on the arguement they were just having, settles for a _thank you_ to the avatar. looking up at aang, he starts, “aang, th—“

“she called you zuko,” aang says, already looking at him. “why would she call you that?”

* * *

tentatively, zuko raises his hands as aang, in confusion, backs away. “aang, let me explain.”

“lee, why did she--” aang pauses, letting go of appa’s reins to cover his face. “i-i just kidnapped the prince.” he looks back at zuko, eyes wide in fear. “i’ve been friends with prince _zuko_.”

“aang,” zuko begs. “please, i--”

“you lied to me!” aang stands, timidly yelling down at the prince. “whoever you are, you lied to me, all this time. why? why would you--”

“please, aang--”

“explain!” the avatar screams, hands trembling. the bags under his eyes, the sweat on his temple, zuko notices it all, the stress aang holds. he looks just the same that day at ba sing se. “o-or else i’ll drop you!”

zuko leans over appa’s saddle, breath hitching at the sight of the ocean, from horizon to horizon, all a hundred feet beneath them. looking back up at the avatar and his pale face, he rushes to explain, “aang, i know i lied to you, and i’m sorry. but i’m prince zuko. a-and i was banished and told to capture you so i could go home.” the avatar narrows his eyes. “and at first, i admit i wanted to, but when we first met, and i saw you, i just couldn’t. i’m being honest. i couldn’t even think about taking your happiness away like the fire nation did to me.”

“but you tried to capture me. you chased me,” aang counters. 

“i-i know, i wasn’t set on capturing and not capturing you at first,” zuko continues, feeling his neck burn. his voice quiets, barely above the wind. “and there were many times i was tempted to and i actually tried to. but believe me, i chose good not long ago, and even if you can’t trust me, i am good. i want to help you, i have always wanted to help you.”

“then why would you lie?” aang asks, still unconvinced. appa slows down and aang’s voice, tired and soft, comes clear cut. “you could’ve easily just pretended to be lee to get close to me.”

“aang, there were so many times where i could’ve taken you, or do much worse,” zuko says. “but i didn’t. because i knew, like sokka said--”

“don’t say his name.”

“--well, he said that people need you to bring peace.” zuko wipes the sweat on his neck. “and i learned to believe that. i know lying was wrong and i shouldn’t have stretched it for so long, but please, trust me one more time, i don’t want to hurt you. at all.”

appa drifts in the air, too high in the clouds at midnight to be spotted, and, tired--just four days until the invasion--aang sits, back facing zuko. the prince, resting his case, stares at aang’s lightning wound, the one he failed to prevent not too long ago. 

“i want to believe you’re good,” aang begins, slow and thoughtful. “because i’ve seen you do good. deep down, i know you are. but, i think, like katara, i...made you the face of my enemy. i guess, you were the first firebender that had the greatest chance of...defeating me, when i was so naive, so that’s why.” and then, with a sigh, aang says, “back then, before i...i ran away, i had all these friends from the other nations. one of them was this boy, kuzon. we had so much fun together. and he was from the fire nation.

“i guess, after losing him, i wanted you to be him. but kuzon’s not a liar. you’re not him.” looking over his shoulder, aang keeps the cautious glare. “i don’t like lies. but i like lee.” turning in his seat, aang meets zuko’s eyes. “and if you are telling the truth, like i know lee would, then i’ll believe you.”

zuko barely registers the sentence, caught by surprise. “really?” he asks. “just like that? you believe me, even though i lied?”

aang shrugs. “i always knew you were a good firebender.” yawning, he rubs his eyes. “also, i’m too tired to bother fighting you over it.”

“then, why’d you come for me?” zuko asks. “isn’t the eclipse soon? shouldn’t you be resting?”

“i can’t,” aang confesses, dropping his arms into his lap. “i...i don’t feel ready. i haven’t even mastered all four elements yet.”

“you don’t need all four elements if it’s during the eclipse,” zuko says, though aang’s heard it already. “besides, it’s not like i can teach you in a few days.”

“i...i know,” aang sighes, resting his forehead in the palm of his hands. “i just don’t want to fail my friends again. i lost ba sing se, i lost my own people, i...i can’t imagine losing my friends.”

scooting closer, zuko lays a hesitant hand on the boy’s shoulder. aang flinches, but settles down nonetheless. “the last person you want comfort from is probably me,” zuko begins. “but if it’s any comfort at all, i believe in you, aang. and i know your friends believe in you, too.”

they sit like that, together, for a minute, as zuko serves as the one source of warmth in the high altitudes. aang, nearly falling asleep, gets up with a start, returning to the reins. he yawns, “i guess i should drop you back off with your sister, huh?”

“a-actually,” zuko protests, an idea easily coming to mind. “she trapped my uncle back in the capital. if she gets back from ember island before me, who knows what she’ll do to him now that i’m gone.”

“but how are you gonna sneak in? the capital must be guarded from head to toe,” aang remarks. 

“i know a place,” zuko says. “i’l let you know where to drop me off.”

  
  


“thanks for coming!” feng calls at the departing customers, sighing in relief as the _oolong lizard_ declares itself out of service. quickly, the rest retreat under the deck, back into their bunk room. as each server collapses onto their own bunk bed, jee does the same on the sofa in the middle. “i hate being in the fire nation.”

“i hate serving horrible tea,” daito complains from his bunk, tugging off his new red uniform.

“i don’t know, you already named the two things i hate here,” mara sighs, doing her routine and fixing up zuko and jang’s beds. “oh--i hate saying, _welcome to the oolong lizard_.”

“iroh would be so disappointed,” kook says, muffling her cries into her pillow. “oh, i can’t wait to get to onai.”

_onai_ . iroh’s goodbye upon being dragged off the ship by dai li agents was along the lines of, _you have a shipment at onai_ \--an earth kingdom port that iroh favored the most out of their many destinations. oftentimes at this port, the uncle stocked up on tea from one of his secret providers, who stayed unnamed for unreasonable mystery reasons. though to the dai li the reminder sounded just that--a reminder--to them, it was another nonsense statement, because they’d already passed onai by. it didn’t take long to decipher the code. 

“wait, what’s that?” daito stands up, head peering up at the ceiling. kook’s whines and feng’s complaints die down at the sound of thick footsteps on the deck, meandering around aimlessly. shortly after come three, strong knocks, banging on the door of the bridge. 

jee, kook, and daito leave the room, hurrying up the stairs and through the hall. jee creaks open the door, bowing his head at the four fire nation soldiers. “what seems to be the problem, soldiers?”

jang, clad in his fire nation uniform, steps forward. “we’re clearing the harbor out.”

  
  


“okay, what do i do now?” aang asks after guiding appa up high over the steaming volcano. “‘cause if your plan is to, just, drop in there, then--”

“no, don’t worry,” zuko assures, stepping up behind him. “think you can do something and move that smoke down? it’ll give me some cover.” 

aang nods, directing a big gust of wind that cuts the smoke in half, and, with another gust of wind, the smoke sinks down on both sides of the mountain. following that, appa follows the slope of the mountain down to the coast, hiding behind the thick smoke as zuko drops down momentarily, sinking his feet to and fro the area, before aang picks him up again. 

“i’m sure whatever you’re doing has some reason to it,” aang mutters under his breath. appa rises through the smoke, reaching the peak once more. “but i don’t know, it just looks like weird shenanigans.”

“don’t mind me, i’m just giving you more breathing space,” zuko says. “when they see the footsteps in the morning, they’ll lock down the area.”

“ah, i see,” aang remarks as they dip back down through the grey clouds on the other side of the mountain, closer to the capital. “have you been down this way before?”

“no, last time i snuck to the capital, i hid out for a week,” zuko comments, getting ready to step off. “i fed off scraps, slept in allys, and--over here.” appa stops, the smoke and soot staining his white hide, and zuko jumps off on a rocky ledge. “that’s it. you can follow the smoke up again and go back undetected.”

“good luck,” aang wishes, nodding down at the prince.

“you too.”

“and don’t worry,” aang says as zuko scouts the area. “i won’t tell anyone.”

“really?”

the avatar shrugs. “i’d rather have you spill the beans yourself.”

  
  


sokka sweats, willing himself to stop, but the words spill out nonetheless. “...and then we met suki, who's a kyoshi warrior.” in between his rushing breaths, a water tribe warrior yawns. “she dressed me like a woman and then she kissed me, and then aang's friend was a crazy old king and…”

“wait,” hakoda stands, raising a hand. glad for the intrusion, sokka stops, swallowing the dry words down. his father points to the horizon at a brown and green ship, nearing the man-made docks. “no, what are they doing?”

rushing down the dock, hakoda meets the _oolong lizard_ with a crossed stance. feng jumps off deck, greeting hakoda with a smile. “hey! hakoda, sir, it seems--oh, were we interrupting something?”

aang, katara, sokka, and toph head down the deck, speculating the ship in curiosity--sokka remarks, _what’s the oolong lizard, a knockoff jasmine dragon?_ and, spotting the crew step off, in new red uniforms, the pieces click. hakoda, eyeing jee, asks, “what’s all this?”

“i know we’re not supposed to leave until later,” jee says, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “but the other night, the fire navy started clearing out the harbor and ordered us to leave. we had no choice.”

“well,” hakoda rubs his temple with a sigh. “i’m guessing you didn’t get much information.”

“no, we got plenty,” jee shakes his head. “i’ll make it quick--there are watchtowers lining the route from the beach to the capital. and, apparently, the western patrol found footsteps by the coast. they’re pulling nearly all their ground forces to lock down the area.”

“where’d you hear that?”

“from me.”

jang steps down from the deck, suffocatingly warm in his old, unwashed fire nation uniform. as he takes off his helmet, hakoda, the avatar, and the rest immediately relax. hakoda, still unimpressed, says, “this wasn’t part of the plan. neither are the red outfits.”

jang shrugs. “i figured they wouldn’t let any random teahouse pass through, so we took up the ruse as a family of fire nation nobles stocking up on tea, with their hired fire nation soldier escorting them.” behind them, kook, jee, daito, and haku nod, flaunting their red uniforms. “the patrol let me board their ship while they took the teahouse in the harbor, and there i heard about the footsteps on the western coast.”

“well, you got some information, and you got back safe,” hakoda decides, reaching out a hand. jee takes it, shaking hands firmly. “good enough with me.”

* * *

the invasion kicks off with a grand start, the avatar and his newfound forces slipping past the gates of azulon and the fire nation navy with ease. with most of the ground forces occupied with securing the western section of the coast, the invasion surely brings surprise, and with news of the avatar’s submarines heading for the beach, many of the responding forces have little backup as the rest scramble back to their places. 

but zuko doesn’t know. or rather, he’s too busy to care. since aang dropped him off on the mountainside, he’d been headed for the prison ever since. after the first day of his walk, he had finally reached the caldera city—by then, many guards patrolling the west side had already departed to lock down the coast after zuko’s footprints were found. the second day he spent hiding out from the rest of the guards in the city, and he did his best to cut across at night. the third day, today, however, zuko isn’t any closer than he was before, his hesitance driving him up against the wall with every soldier passing by. 

with every biding breath, he peers up at the sky as the eclipse nears. he still has no plan—run now, while he can still firebend, or later, when no one can? but as he anxiously waits in the shadowed alley between two restaurants, he knows: in the end, he’ll have to move. 

somehow, the time passes, and a group of soldiers stalk down the street, seemingly ordered to help the others guard the gates as they urge passersby to go inside. as they near the alley, just as the sun nears the moon, zuko hides, shutting his eyes tight. he nearly sighs of relief at their passing footsteps, until one stops. “hold on, we didn’t check here.”

all four of them peek into the alley, one of them stepping further inside, and zuko sighs. “hey! kid, better get out of here now.” he steps closer. two of them bear spears, while the other two are weaponless. “wait, he kinda looks like—!”

zuko attacks the non-benders first, grabbing a spear from the closest one and whacking the blunt end at their feet. they both fall, grabbing their bruised ankles, and the two weaponless firebenders advance, marching in unison towards the prince. “listen, kid,” one warns. “we have to escort everyone back into their homes. if not, we’ll have to restrain you and take you to prison.”

and at that, zuko shrugs. “i guess i’m going to prison, then.”

the soldiers, albeit reluctantly, drag zuko’s offered hands behind his back and, sneaking another look at the sun, hastily push him towards the prison. zuko, eyeing the sun just the same, takes his time, complaining about a supposed injured ankle he got from the two non-benders he incapacitated earlier. “oh no,” the other says, hands tightening on his arm. “we won’t make it in time. the kid’s too slow.”

zuko pauses in his steps, despite their urgent calls. the eclipse begins, he can feel it, and, pulling free from their hands, he kicks one in the knee and swings around, hitting the other in the cheek. they stumble about, gritting about their bruises, and zuko takes off. 

“hey! get back here!” one soldier shouts. 

“no, we have to get back to the gates,” the other reminds, and, exasperated, they run down the other way. 

zuko narrows his line of sight on the prison, hurrying with every step he takes. he turns a corner amongst all the buildings and, there standing alone at the end, zuko runs toward the prison. as he nears, he slows to catch his breath, expecting at least one soldier to be guarding the scene. he finds no one, only the entrance gates open, and with another heaving pant, he rushes inside. 

“uncle?” he shouts, calling against all his instincts. but again, at the silence, he shouts, “uncle! where are you?”

a guard sits by the door, head planted on the table. zuko grabs the man by the hair, shaking him awake, and the soldier awakens with a groan. immediately zuko demands, “where is he? where’s iroh?”

the soldier looks up, sporting a bruise on his cheek. tiredly, he mumbles, “they came in.”

“who?”

“they came in,” the soldier trails off, eyes slipping. zuko shakes him once more. “he got out. like a one-man army. and then, they took him.”

zuko drops the soldier, heading for the cells. all empty, and at the end of the row, one metal door stands open. zuko peers inside, spotting a mess—slippers on the floor, food spilled from wall to wall, the bed and chains broken in splinters and fragments. in the middle of it all is a pai sho tile, and zuko knows. seething, he knows, and he slams the cell door closed. 

_they took him. azula took him._

  
  
  


in the underground bunker, zuko expects azula to be by their father’s side, but voices no surprise when he’s proven to be wrong. ozai sits on his throne, drinking tea, and zuko, with the broadswords he took from his palace room, barges inside. his father, barely sparing a glance, greets with, “what are you doing here?”

the guards stand tall, eyes locked on the prince as he passes them by. the first step is tough, but, grappling his weapons by the hilts, he relents to the rage in his veins. his father, taken by his presence, glowers down at his son, the second interruption zuko has caused. but through it all, the prince bears it. “i’m here to tell the truth.”

“during an eclipse?” ozai scrutinizes as zuko draws closer. he dismisses his guards nonetheless, and on their way out they linger at the sight of the boy with his two swords. “out with it.”

but zuko doesn’t; at least, not immediately. as ozai returns to his tea, spending his patience, zuko watches his father--the second time he’s talked to him, much less seen his face since returning to the fire nation--with near-pity. pity for them, for the two of them, as father and son, and for azula, as family. his father, the fire lord, who burnt his son’s face, tormented his daughter, cast his wife away; his father, who failed his own family, and, zuko believes, has already failed his own nation. and he sits, sipping his tea, oblivious to it all, bearing his own share of resentment for his own father. zuko pities it, the cycle of fathers and sons, of mothers and daughters, altogether turning pain into victory. 

“out with it, zuko.”

“you can’t even call me _son_ ,” zuko remarks. ozai casts a dark look, warning the boy about his tongue. zuko’s neck burns, as always, but with the pain he imagines his father feeling the same facing his own son.

“what is it you want to say?” ozai snaps impatiently, setting down his tea. 

“azula lied. the avatar is alive,” zuko begins and the fire lord stands upright at the news. before ozai can protest, the prince continues, “i didn’t kill him. i protected him. and he’s leading the invasion right now.”

“what are you--get out of here, now!” ozai seethes, dismissing zuko with a wave of his arm. the prince doesn’t budge. “get out, you ungrateful child! before i--”

“before you burn my face off?” zuko interrupts, biting down his yells. he squeezes the hilt of his sword tight. “i’m not done talking.”

“you will be, or--”

zuko raises his sword. “or what?”

  
  


“...and they get to go with the avatar, killing the fire lord and stuff!” feng complains, whining into his pillow. 

“feng, please stop,” jang mumbles from his own bed. in the bunk room, the crew and lieutenant of the _oolong lizard_ spend another hour sulking in their beds—feng and jang, over hakoda kicking them out of the invasion; kook, daito, haku, and mara, over the still-missing zuko and iroh; and jee, over both terms with a bottle of his stashed beer. 

just that morning they’d been told by hakoda that the teahouse wouldn’t be following them into the invasion. _we’d rather not risk anyone else getting hurt_ , hakoda had said, but they all knew—a crew of nonbenders, joining the bunch with little fighting experience altogether (yet an abundance of serving experience); the rejection was bound to happen. 

“at least we got to help them at all,” kook says from under her bedsheets. “i mean, we did give them a good start.” they agree with a small _hm_. 

“wait, what is that?” daito asks, sitting upright. 

“again, with the big ears?” mara complains. “what do you hear n—“ 

together, they all sit upright at the first sound of a shrill, high tone. looking at each other, they hurry up to the deck, where, coming up behind them, a raft speeds along the water. they squint, peering along the railing, at the sight of five old men in matching robes. again, the shrill tone sounds, and they spot one man heaving on a whistle. in the back stands a long-haired water bender, who maneuvers the waves to push the raft hastily along. and in the front, weathered and board-shouldered, stands—

“holy shit, it’s iroh!”

  
  


ozai sits, hands tightly wound on the armrests of his throne. “speak, then.”

“i’ll talk of my own accord,” zuko says, keeping his sword raised. after a brief pause, maintaining the narrowed eye contact with his father, zuko asks. a million questions and monologues on his mind, but of them all, he asks, “you wanted me gone, didn’t you?” ozai responds in silence. “yes, i want you to answer.”

“i don’t follow your orders,” the fire lord spits. and he sits back, regaining a regal scoff. “i find it quite pathetic. the last moment of your life left and you spend it asking a question to swell your insecurity.”

“answer me, now.”

“you’ve turned so soft, so weak that you want to blame it all on me--”

“answer me.”

“--your father, who gave you a life, a purpose, a drive--”

“you gave me nothing, so give me an answer!” zuko shouts, arm shaking. he swallows down the dry in his mouth and the words he wished to say with it. just as zuko had stared up at him in pity, ozai looks down on his son in discontent.

“look at you. cowardly, you challenge your father when he’s powerless,” ozai shakes his head and rubs his temple. there was a time when such a sight shamed zuko. “i had hoped from the beginning you would triumph. that you’d inherit my strength, my vigor, my honor. but my father did me wrong. my marriage with your mother brought you, who instead bore her sensitivity, her passion, her _feelings_ ,” ozai sneers. zuko, drawing closer, tests the blade. “and it brought your sister, who favored her love over mine.”

“you burned my face, and you drove azula mad with fear,” zuko corrects. ozai huffs a breath, disregarding any accusation. 

“i had no choice,” ozai growls. he raises his arms. “there is your answer. you were never enough for me. you never could be. so yes, i wanted you gone, and when the opportunity came, i sent you away.”

“you banished a thirteen year old kid.”

“to make you learn!” the fire lord shouts. zuko, out of instinct, steps back, heart racing. at the sight, ozai laughs. “you’re still a coward, zuko! that is why you fail your destiny! you ran away from the avatar and you tried running away from me.”

“i didn’t run--”

“you fear me, because you know i’m right--”

“i feared you because you’re a horrible father!” zuko yells back. “how can you call yourself a man when you can’t even raise a family right? and you’re right, i am your disappointment!” the prince edges closer, taking his place back. “i am your failure, and i have shown the world how horribly you’ve failed. that’s why they turn on you, they laugh at you, they fight your men right now.”

“they fight, but they’ll lose, and they’ll learn what you have yet to,” ozai grovels, curt in his words. “once i take the earth kingdom, i’ll bring an era of peace that they will thank me for.”

“you’re wrong,” zuko says, his warmth faint. “the world will turn away from you and you will be too powerless to do anything about it.”

“is that destiny, or is that hope?” ozai mocks. “without me, you’re lost. you should’ve learned that from the beginning. i,” his father declares, leaning toward the tip of zuko’s sword. “give you life. purpose, drive. instead, you throw it all away foolishly. you flock to your uncle, and when that isn’t enough, you turn on your nation and go to the avatar.”

“yes, i went to my uncle, who treated me more like a son than you ever did. that’s another job iroh does better than you,” zuko retorts. ozai grimaces. “and i helped the avatar, because in all of the warfare you provoked, i watched him end it. i watched him save people, give them hope and faith, and they believed in him more than they ever believed in you.” at his father’s doubtful gaze, he adds, “more than they ever feared you.”

and, almost hopelessly, ozai looks down on his son with a disappointed sigh. “you’d choose the avatar over me?”

“i choose me,” zuko cements. “not you, not your honor, not destiny--me.”

“and what are you in all of this?” between the two of them, the warmth grows, and they know it. 

“the avatar is your demise. but i am your legacy,” zuko sheathes his broadswords and turns, walking away from the throne. “and when you lose, i will spend my entire life dismantling every victory you and our forefathers have taken,” zuko promises. he faces ozai, now grueling in his seat. warmer, warmer, they wait. “and you will rot in your grave as i work the fire nation onto a better path to peace than you could ever envision.”

zuko holds himself, relaxed, ready for anything to come. and ozai stands from his throne, hands hidden in his sleeves as he decides, “you turn on me, you turn on your mother. you’ll never see her again.”

and so zuko thinks, _so, she’s alive_ , with relief. “i don’t need you in order to find her.”

“then, i guess that settles it. but, i now realize that banishment is far too merciful a penalty for treason,” ozai decides. “your penalty will be far steeper.”

  
  


running out of the fire lord’s secret chamber, zuko follows a dark stairwell out a metal door. searching for the exit, zuko turns the corner, only to run into a smirking princess. she regards him with a triumphant smile. “zuko. i take it you met with father.”

“i did,” zuko replies, eyeing her cautiously. “i wouldn’t go in there if i were you. he’s mad.”

behind the hidden door, they hear a loud shout. “i can tell,” azula notes. smirk dropping, she steps out of zuko’s way to open the metal door. “i guess, i have to take care of it.”

“you don’t have to,” zuko offers. reluctantly, he continues, “you could--”

“help you help the avatar?” azula suggests mockingly, though zuko silently encourages it. meeting his eyes, she says, “no. i’m not running away from our father.”

“then what are you doing? _facing_ him? or do you still fear him?” zuko asks. another angry shout within the chamber. azula looks back, and then, slowly, returns her gaze to his scar. “if you come with me, you don’t have to even think about him again.”

another shout. _azula!_ the princess pulls the door wide open. her back facing zuko, she says, “now that father has cut you out of the family, i’ll finally be the better sibling.”

“azula, don’t--”

“don’t try to convince me,” she snaps, glaring at him. “you really think i’d give up my life here, my future here, for you? just so you can make amends with me? so that i lose everything, to make it even?” zuko looks aside, stuck on what to say. she fills the silence. “here’s how--if we ever, _ever_ meet again, don’t try to talk me onto your side. we’ll fight, whoever wins wins, and then we’ll be even.”

zuko nods, biting back a goodbye, as azula shuts the door. 

  
  


kook, on the upper deck, smiles down at the sight of five old men, one lieutenant, and one girlfriend crowding the four tables, watching and playing pai sho games altogether. jang comes up beside her, pointing at mara as she moves her tiles against master pakku, “how much d’you bet she’s gonna win?”

kook smirks, a gambler hand turning, but feng points at the sky, and there, they spot the fire nation blimp approaching. “ah, there he is.”

“there he is, indeed,” jang repeats. pausing in their games, they all take a gander at the sight.

zuko smothers out the fire, letting the air in the air balloon cool. as the blimp descends, slowly, he jumps out onto the main deck. just behind him, the tattered and sinking balloon settles on the floorboards, losing its height. through it all, his eyes stay locked on one man—sitting at a table, healthy alright, sipping his tea and looking quite alive—“uncle!”

zuko runs and iroh laughs, walking towards the boy with his outstretched arms. they meet in the middle, quite soundly with sighs of reliefs and laughs of joy. he had pictured this moment; fresh out of telling his father off and helping the avatar, he’d find iroh, pleasant as always, and proud of him for the way he was. zuko, buried in the man’s shoulder, admits, “i thought azula took you.”

“hah, like she could try,” iroh jokes. as they pull apart, the crew dives in, crowding zuko with the hugs they gave iroh much earlier. 

“son, your hair!” jee remarks. “it needs another cut!”

“zuko, i cried on your broadswords,” feng wails, grabbing the prince by the ears. “i cried on them every night.”

“please try my new pudding recipe,” daito begs, shoving a spoonful in zuko’s mouth. “it’s red bean, your favorite.”

“please don’t ever leave me alone with these guys again.” mara wraps her arms around his left arm as daito takes the other. “they are so crazy, i never realized.”

“zuko, i was so worried,” kook joins in from behind, nesting her chin on the boy’s hair. 

haku, the only one hogging zuko’s front, says, “ah, you stink. please shower.”

they all release him, zuko laughing softly. “i missed you guys, too.”

  
  


“do you see how easily i found you?” azula asks, staring up at the board-shouldered man. hands on her hips, she continues, “its not that hard to find someone. ergo, it shouldn’t be hard to kill them. honestly, i don’t know why i bothered hiring an assassin when i could’ve done it myself.”

the man, or as sokka had called him, _combustion man_ stands still, indifference staring back at the princess. sighing, she rubs her temple, “i want you to change targets. my brother, prince zuko.” she lets her hand fall as she pays the combustion man a steeled look. “i want you to kill him.”

he doesn’t respond, as expected. she adds on, handing him a photo to up the odds, “in case you don’t know him, he’s a firebender and he likes to serve tea on a boat.” just as he’s turning, she says, “oh, and if the avatar’s with him, kill them both. and because of your unspeakable performance in doing your job, i won’t pay any higher.”

* * *

at the western air temple, the avatar and co sit down and plan. “so, what’s the new plan?”

“the new plan,” sokka says, building up with a grand pause. “is the old plan! you know, master all four elements and beat up the fire lord before the comet comes.”

“no problem,” aang sarcastically shrugs. “easy-peasy. except for one thing--i don’t have a firebending teacher. have we thought about that?”

“well, there’s jeong-jeong,” katara suggests. “he did say you needed to master water and earth before learning fire--maybe now, he’ll consider training you.”

“i don’t know,” sokka says, leaning back on the ground. aang does the same, bumping heads with the water tribe boy. “jeong-jeong’s like, gone. where even is he now?”

“well, besides him, who else do we have?” katara asks.

and, at that, aang sits up. the idea beams on his face, that of traveling teahouses and incense and numerous rescue attempts--and, he recalls with it, a prince of loyalty. a prince, sure, but a good prince nonetheless! the watertribe siblings eye his excitement wearily, before he exclaims, “lee! why haven’t we thought of him yet?”

“perhaps because of some plot-related device,” sokka interprets. and, gladly, he considers it, “yeah, i like lee, and now i can show him my cool sword!”

“yeah, but we don’t know where he is either,” katara points out. “didn’t prince zuko capture him to learn firebending?” aang looks aside, hiding the cringe on his face.

“oh, yeah!” sokka sits upright, recalling the feelings of horror at the news spouted by lee’s lonely tea-serving crew. “we have to go save him!”

“actually, i think i know where he is,” aang recalls, looking to appa and the white fur he cleaned all the soot and ashes out of. “he told me he’d be at onai.”

“he told you what? when?” 

“well,” aang flashes a sheepish smile at the two. “please don’t get mad.”

“don’t get mad? what--?”

“a few days before the invasion, when you guys were sleeping,” aang starts slow, easing them into the story. then, with a long breath, he continues, “i was just flying around on appa in the clouds--” katara opens her mouth to protest. “--and then i saw a campfire, and then i saw lee with princess azula, and he was, like, walking away from her, so when he was all alone, i just swooped him up.”

“you kidnapped lee, again,” sokka says, voice low, before shouting, “without us? how many times do i have to tell you, aang, the next time you go on a crazy adventure, bring us!”

“you guys were sleeping! i couldn’t sleep!”

“wait, aang, so you rescued lee without telling us?” katara asks. 

“i thought it was all a big dream when i woke up the next morning,” aang says defensively. sokka looks over the avatar’s shoulder in the distance. “anyways, i dropped him off....somewhere, and he said he’s going to meet his crew at onai. some earth kingdom port.”

“well, we have to first figure out where onai is, and--”

“everybody move!” sokka grabs aang and katara’s wrists, heaving them both forward as he runs off in one direction. aang peers over his shoulder, spotting combustion man standing in the temple across them, as well as a trail of smoke and fire that digs into the spot they once sitting at before exploding behind their backs. the blast propels them forward, and crossing into their path is toph, who katara grabs on the way out. “he’s going to destroy the air temple! we’ll all fall!”

“then we have to get out of here,” katara shouts back. the duke, teo, and haru meet them and join in on the run towards appa. 

“then what about after that?” sokka asks. “he’s gonna keep chasing us.”

“well, if he’s a firebender, then we need a firebender, too.” reaching appa, they all climb onto his saddle. the sky bison flies off with a heavy start, narrowly avoiding another blast where they took off. 

  
  


“wow, the avatar is so cool.” mara lays back on her bunk bed. “he vowed to keep your secret, even when you revealed yourself to be some nasty, royalty prince. i applaud him.”

“yes, applaud him,” zuko rolls his eyes. “i’m sure now he’s not so into lee the tea server anymore.”

“aw, don’t get all choked up, poor zuko,” daito reassures from his bed, rolling over to flash the prince a pout. “the avatar loves everyone, even royalty.”

“i still can’t believe you got away with it for so long,” kook wonders, an arm dangling off the side of her bed. mara, on the bottom bunk, paints a star with the marker in her hand. “i mean, lee and prince zuko are both firebenders, they’re ‘cousins’, lee has a scar and the prince wears an eyepatch on the _same side_ , and they both hang around with uncle iroh—or, actually, the twin brothers...”

“sometimes i laugh about it, you know?” feng mumbles. “and then i’m like, oh, shit, we’re in so much trouble when they all find out.”

“tell me about it,” zuko groans. “aang nearly threw me from a hundred feet into the ocean.”

before feng can comment, jee pushes the metal door open. “come on, lazy buns, or else iroh will worry his head off.”

  
  


“don’t worry aang, just take your time,” sokka says, yet he picks at his fingers and peers back at the ocean behind them feverishly. “not like a crazy firebender assassin is after us.”

“it’s okay, don’t listen to him,” katara assures the avatar. “it’s not like he has a flying bison.”

“well, combustion man aside,” aang yells over the wind. “where’s onai? any of you guys know?”

“onai?” haru scratches his head in thought as sokka, katara, the duke, and teo all await eagerly. “uh, i used to take trips with my father somewhere near there before the fire nation took my home.” sokka urges the earthbender to continue with a rabid shake of his hand. “uh, well, you’ll know it when you see it! onai is very...festive.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

they learn it sooner or later. cutting across the ocean--after minutes and minutes of tense silence--they reach land. following the curve of the landscape, they meander down the coast, hovering over small towns and villages and awaiting haru’s response of, _no keep going_. aang looks around wildly, directing appa with hesitant tugs, until they see it--breaking the rural lands of small villages and huts, they reach mountainous terrain. spikes rise and fall, dipping into overgrown forests and climbing into the clouds, and, passing through the foggy haze, they look down upon a town divided and structured around the mountain--small peaks bursting through the middle of the port--and the ocean, which sits fragmented by the harbour. carved on the rising mountain is a spiral of stairs, all circling up to the remnants of a statue. 

“it’s kyoshi,” aang notes as appa passes the statue by, having eroded down to a smooth sloping shard of the avatar’s face. said statue stands on a smooth pedestal, admired by visitors and meditative warriors. lining the pedestal, the stairs, and the roads circling the town are lantern lights, flags, and many market stalls of fireworks and paintings. “well, that’s the festive aspect.”

they pass the town by--full of greenery, lantern lights, houses and more--and head straight for the harbour, where, docked beside a multitude of ships is the _jasmine dragon_ . no more knock-off _oolong lizard_ titles, no red uniforms; instead replaced by its welcoming aroma of tea. “look! it’s lee!”

“is that jeong jeong?” katara points.

sokka raises a finger of his own. “it’s piandao!”

“and bumi?” aang squints hard at the sight. 

“why are there a bunch of old famous men in matching robes?” teo asks. 

“we’ll find out soon enough.”

  
  


“ah, oh no, lee!” jang sarcastically wails as he returns with two menus and a teapot. “the avatar’s back! he’s gonna snatch you up again!”

zuko shakes his head. “haha, very funny.” but, looking back at the crew, he catches their upwards gazes, all smiling at the sky. looking up himself comes a rush of wind and a hovering shadow. “wait a min--ah!”

he barely manages to hold onto his teapot as a rope latches around his waist, heaving him up in the air and onto the bison’s saddle. groaning as he hits the saddle, hard, he looks up at sokka, untying the rope around his waist. “sorry, lee, it’s usually a bit more breezy, but we’re running from an assassin. oh, katara look, he brought tea.”

appa hovers over the water just beside the ship as aang converses with iroh, ”hello sir! how’d you get out of the fire nation?”

“yeah, and what’s with piandao? and bumi? and jeong-jeong?” sokka asks. and, peering in the very back of the tables, he adds, “and pakku?”

“these are my friends,” iroh explains. “i broke out of prison and they helped me escape here. why haven’t you come any sooner?”

“we’re busy running away from a firebender assassin!” sokka responds, earning everyone on deck and lee’s attention. “he’s like a weird half metal man who can shoot fire from his eyes!”

“fire from his eyes? what an unnatural feat,” iroh chuckles to himself. “though, i’d ask of you to not lead him here--you see, we’d rather not suffer losing another great ship.”

“you got it!” aang, just about to leave, asks, “wait, do you have more space for three people?”

  
  


“okay, you wanted to kidnap me because you’re being chased by a firebender,” zuko relays, rubbing his head. after dropping off teo, haru, and the duke, aang and co take off, leaving onai to wait for combustion man to arrive. “who shoots lasers out of his eyes.”

“well, not lasers, per say,” aang corrects. “more like, uh, like fireballs. really precise fireballs. he nearly blew up the western air temple.”

“he almost got us when we were in prison, too,” toph adds, sipping the premium jasmine tea from his teapot. zuko absentmindedly takes note of that-- _prison_. “ah, some good tea.”

“yeah, give me some,” sokka urges, grabbing the pot. “anyway, how’s it going?”

“we heard aang kidnapped you again and helped you escape azula,” katara says. “where’d you go after that?”

“well, uh, since the eclipse was coming up, i wanted to break iroh out of the prison,” zuko answers, contemplating his choice of words. “and, i didn’t make it in time, and iroh was already out, and i got mad, so i went in the underground chambers to look for azula, and i ended up meeting the fire lord.”

sokka gasps. aang, from his seat, tenses, peeking a look back at the prince. sokka, grabbing zuko by his shoulders, asks, “you met the firelord? we were looking for him!”

“your other uncle? how did it go?” katara asks, concerned. 

“well, the fire lord has a hidden chamber that has a hidden doorway, that’s probably why you couldn’t find it,” zuko suggests. “and uh, it didn’t go so well. he tried to shoot me with lightning, but i redirected it.”

“you know how to redirect lightning?” sokka gasps even more. “that’s hardcore.”

outside onai, appa drops down on the land in front of the mountains. they all climb off, waiting for combustion man to show up, and zuko, staring at sokka’s ebony sword, says, “i see you followed my advice.”

sokka snorts, pulling out the blade into the light. zuko, peering from his place. spots the small speckles glinting in the sun as the watertribe boy proudly says, “yeah, sure. i made it out of meteorite.”

“so, piandao’s your master, huh?” zuko leans against appa, hands drifting through the fur. he recalls from the swordmaster a short tale of a recent student he had, a water tribe boy impersonating a fire nation citizen. “well, any friend of my uncle is some master in whatever art. he’s a good swordsman, isn’t he?” sokka nods his head. so, feng’s pamphlet didn’t come in handy. “you know how to use it?”

the boy grins. “in my sleep.” he catches the prince staring. “here, feel the grip.”

zuko takes the sword, hesitant, and, moving to some clear space, he tests the weight. much thinner and flatter than his broadswords, but the sharp edges, the ebony design, the feathering weight it drags; certainly something of the water tribe boy’s style. he hands it back to sokka with an impressed nod. “cool sword indeed.”

leaning back against appa, zuko waits, staring at the barren landscape before them, until katara arrives. “so, zuko and azula took you to the fire nation. what were they like?”

aang, beside her, hides a cringing face. zuko, now the center of attention—katara staring, sokka waiting, and toph, sitting on the ground—he clears his throat with a tentative start, “uh, well. they were...like you’d expect royalty to act.”

“ah, snobby,” sokka infers. 

“probably rude,” katara muses. 

“entitled?” toph adds, though coming from a family of wealth herself. 

“y-yeah, sure,” zuko’s hand makes its way to the back of his neck. aang, with a sympathetic smile, sits beside toph for the rest of the story, albeit amused. 

“daito told us that prince zuko kidnapped you because he heard you were gonna teach aang firebending,” sokka continues. “what, did he force you to teach? how bad was he?”

“i bet he sucked.”

“h-he…” looking down at aang, the avatar snickers lightly. then, defeated, he agrees, “yeah, he could use some pointers.”

“oh, prince zuko just got burned by lee!” sokka exclaims, waving a fanning hand. “what a burn! zuko should be ashamed.”

“yeah, he should,” zuko nearly chuckles along. 

“what about his sister?” katara asks. “i mean, we all know azula’s a pretty good firebender. to us, she just acts all snobby.”

“her friends are scary,” sokka shivers. 

“pretty rude, too,” toph shrugs. 

“uh, well, azula’s...tough,” zuko runs a hand through his hair. 

“you said that she likes to manipulate people, remember?” katara asks, swatting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. aang, nearly as nervous, digs his chin into his palms. “i couldn’t imagine being even related to her. then again, most of her family is psycho power-hungry.”

“haha, yeah,” aang timidly laughs along. 

toph, witnessing it all—the stuttering heartbeats of zuko and aang alike, their tense and anxious breathing, the nervous darting of their hands on and off the ground—brushes it off, instead pressing a palm against the ground and informing them, “i’d hate to ruin this little moment, but the metal man’s coming.”

toph stands up, aang directs appa to hide in the trees behind them, and the rest ground their feet with eyes locked on the horizon. zuko finds himself in the very front, shielding the avatar, and he glances down at his hands, dry and tentative. 

“so, mr. firebender, what’s the plan?” sokka asks. the prince responds with a confused glance. “you know, firebender to firebender, what do we do? any secret hacks?” zuko mulls the thought of _secret hacks_ over. 

“you should try to go for his root,” zuko advises, recalling iroh’s instructions. “knock him off balance. whatever it takes to throw him off.”

combustion man comes in his own time, stalking down the empty path. upon setting his sights on the crew in the distance, he aims his first shot, which they dodge in no time, scattering all over the field. they regain a curved formation, hiding the avatar, as per sokka’s instructions. combustion man advances, taking long, wide steps, before aiming another blast at sokka, who now stands in the middle. quickly, he dives out of the way, and behind him aang stands, waiting with toph. 

as combustion man prepares for his next shot, aang and toph dig out two boulders from the dry soil, sending it towards the assassin. within a few feet of his approach, they throw it on the ground before aang, swinging his staff, fans all the dirt and pebbles at the man’s face. as combustion man pushes through the dirt cloud, they all disperse, running for cover in the trees. 

the dirt and dust clearing, the assassin scans the field. after a few moments’ silence, aang jumps out from behind a tree, and before the man can line another shot, toph, from her spot, jerks the ground up beneath his feet. he falls backwards as the ground under him tilts, and his blast hits a tree just above aang, who darts around from place to place. 

“katara now!” said water bender whips her water out, grabbing the man by his ankles, and slams him flat on his stomach. as combustion man struggles, zuko dives in, laying a foot flat on the man’s head. sokka takes the sight in proudly, “good job, team.”

“team? lee barely did anything,” katara complains, retrieving her water as toph locks the man’s feet, hands, and neck in the soil. 

zuko shrugs. “i would’ve if it went wrong.”

“now, what do we do?” aang asks, swooping down beside zuko. scanning the man up and down, he spots a paper in the man’s hands. he picks it up, and zuko peeks over it. “oh.”

“what is it?” sokka reaches over. “oh, lee. why would he have a picture of you?” he hands it back to the prince. 

aang and zuko share a concerned look, knowing— _lee_ , dressed in royal apparel, his hair hung over his scar, and an unpleasant try of a smile. it was a small portrait done of the returning prince, done to encase the memory of his honor. he knows who sent the assassin, he knows it all too well. he stashes the photo in his pocket. “knock him out.”

sokka takes the blunt end of his club, and as zuko momentarily lifts his foot, the water tribe boy knocks the assassin out with a hit to his third eye. the assassin now unconscious, they pack up on appa, leaving him to the dirt and dust. 

* * *

“well, i’d hate to ruin the party,” zuko says, noting their relaxed sighs. aang, in front, sneaks a peek over his shoulder. “but i think that settles it. i can’t train aang.”

“are you kidding?” sokka laughs from his seat, laying upside down with his feet dangling in the air. toph, beside him, holds his forearm tightly, refusing the advice to do the same with her feet. “you are the only firebender who wants to associate with us. and if someone’s sending firebender assassins for aang, we might as well get one to fight with us.”

“if someone’s sending assassins for the avatar _and_ for me, it’s best to not keep both targets in one place,” zuko points out. and at their dissatisfied protests, he suggests, “but, you can always ask jeong-jeong.”

but aang stubbornly refuses, shaking his head. “i’ll only learn from you, lee.”

with the ‘first’ fire nation assassin taken care of, and the jasmine dragon embarking to its next stop, iroh once more offers passage to the exhausted and relieved avatar and co. he adds that they recently installed a cushioned platform on deck for their bison to rest at, with buckets of water and grass. they relish in the renovated teahouse, sitting on the upper deck and describing the ship in great detail to toph. and zuko, serving the travelers on the deck below, peeks up at the sight. 

“you refuse the avatar once again,” iroh notes as the prince makes his way to his side, after having relayed the customers’ orders to kook. “using the assassin as an excuse.”

“the assassin is a reason,” zuko corrects, voice low with the eyes of the avatar on him. “azula had that photo done when i first came back. i know she sent the assassin after me and aang. she wants to get rid of me.”

“that might’ve been the reasoning you gave the avatar,” iroh continues. before them, jang and feng mess around, tending to the white lotus members and the small amount of travelers alongside them. people rarely wish to leave onai. “but i can sense that there is something deeper. something about your training.”

zuko knows. after he returned to the teahouse at onai—following a day or so of rest and haircutting from jee—he aimed to resume his training after having been away for so long. he was itching to firebend; the last time we was able to was in the crystal catacombs, fighting with the avatar. but he stepped on the mat, threw a few punches and kicks, and, when the time felt right, he tried. and tried again, a withering sight in front of the crew, iroh, and jeong-jeong. feng, on the couch, had asked, _“what? again? dude, you said you could firebend.”_

that was the dilemma until the avatar showed up, turning tail at the metal assassin sent after him. with that came news of azula targeting him and the avatar still requesting for him, and, well, zuko had no choice. he says to iroh, “so what if it is?”

“i have reason to believe that you need new motivation to firebend,” iroh surmises. jang saunters towards them, asking for a teapot on the cart, which zuko hands. 

“i already have a drive, don’t i?” zuko asks. “peace? that’s why it worked when i was protecting aang.”

“yes, you chose you, your beliefs,” iroh says, nodding as piandao passes him by. “but i feel that you are still holding yourself back.”

zuko scoffs. “why would i do that? without firebending, i am--”

“nothing?” iroh finishes, raising an eyebrow. feng pretends to bump into jang, spilling an empty cup of tea with an exasperated _jang no_! the customers laugh at the sight. “however much you value firebending, some part of you does not want it.” he raises a hand, hovering over zuko’s chest. “you can feel your fire, it has grown, and it has changed. yet you cannot use it. this is the difference. before, you had no drive, and therefore no fire. now, you have fire, in here.” and then, iroh raises his hand to the boy’s head, just like before. “but something is blocking it in here.”

“what should i do, then?” zuko asks, nearly restless, as if it was like before--cheek bruised from jet li’s fist, fighting on a thick training mat. what other fight did he need to prove himself? on the upper deck, katara scolds her brother-- _another mooncake, really?_

and toph, beside them, makes them jump with the question, “have you ever met the original firebenders?”

  
  


aang isn’t one to eavesdrop. no, he shouldn’t; but he could blame it all on toph—one to listen and wait. so, up on the main deck, half-listening to sokka fight with katara, he peeks an ear at the conversation between zuko, toph, and iroh. he hears little through the chatter, but enough to get a grasp—zuko’s going somewhere, for something about his firebending. 

he waits until midnight, knowing the prince’s methods, and catches him just before the boy is lowering a spare boat in the water. zuko jerks backward, heart stuttering as he turns and catches the avatar; wide awake and staring, and with his flying bison sitting just behind him. “hey, zuko—or should i just keep calling you lee?”

the prince shrugs, running a hand through his hair as his nerves calm. “as long as you don’t call me zuzu.” for whatever reason, katara had let it slip, the boy’s ‘middle name’, and all across the deck he could hear toph and sokka hollering, _zuzu can i get some more premium jasmine tea?_ and _zuzu please more moon cakes!_ aang laughs. “now, what are you doing here?”

“i overheard you talking with your uncle. and toph,” aang says, climbing on appa’s head. zuko nods, recalling the earthbender’s strangely sound advice about the original benders. “and i think going to wherever you’re going will be much faster if you hop on with me.” zuko stands still, openly refusing the offer. “you won’t have to teach me anything. i’ll just...escort you.”

the prince looks at appa. and then, begrudgingly, back at his rickety boat. and, with a sigh, he takes his chances. 

  
  


“your uncle said something about not being able to firebend?” aang says once they reach higher altitudes. “is that true?”

zuko pauses. exhausted, he lays flat on the saddle, staring up at the sky. they look no different from on the ground. with a deep breath, he says, “it has been for a long time.”

“why?” aang asks. zuko knows, sensing the worry. “is that why you won’t teach me?”

“i stand by what i said about the assassins,” zuko says. crossing his arms, he continues, “and also what i told you before. fire is within you, and it burns. like earth, it needs a strong devotion to it. and, like water, it needs control. like air, you need to know when and how to use it. and if not, you risk letting it spiral out of control.” the avatar nods along. “so, you need some kind of drive or purpose. otherwise, there’s no effort in it at all.”

aang takes it all in, mulling it over. “earlier, you said your drive was peace. that was how you helped me. so why can’t you firebend now?”

“i don’t know, bending isn’t all simple, is it?” zuko shrugs. “iroh thinks i’m holding myself back, like i don’t want myself to firebend. but i do, don’t i?” 

aang shrugs himself. “i guess we’ll find out.”

  
  


the avatar and the prince are captured upon stealing a relic from the sun temple. taken to the two masters of firebending to determine their judgement and fate, they meet the last two dragons, ran and shaw, sweeping the air past them, and, zuko, following aang’s advice, dances alongside the dragons’ dips and turns. 

as one dragon dips and the other rises, one turns and the other follows, the avatar and the prince ground themselves against the pulling winds torn from the gracious flaps of the wings. zuko dances, his throat dry, watching the red and blue ancient firebenders meet at the bottom of the podium. and their mouths open, etching out a quiet roar, a flicker of flame, and zuko, caught in the middle, jerks his arm upright to cover his face.

and there it comes. the truth of fire. reality of its blaze, the measurement of how high and how bright. the red, blue, violet, altogether racing in streaks and delving into streams of orange and white and red. the fire twists like ivy, surrounding zuko and the avatar with gentle harmony, and he feels the air around them pull and tug in laughs. they stand in a hurricane of fire, unharmed, and zuko can see why. he can see everything, staring back at him through the flames; the truth in his mind, his own self, his own hurt. 

and the warrior below says, “fire is not just pain and destruction. it is life and energy.”

he feels the whirlwind of fire pull him higher, high by the strings of his clothes; he feels the breath of its living entirety pass him by on its way to the sky; he feels the avatar next to him, just as awed, and altogether he knows. his scar breathes heavy, warm yet soothed in a gentle touch he can barely recall. what he has been holding back, biting back, stepping away from; truth. the rage of fire under the hands of cruelty, he knows, but the gentle wisps that caress his fingertips as they rise, that, he never knew before. 

  
  


“did you figure it out?” aang asks on the way back to the teahouse. by now, zuko had speculated, the ship would be halfway to the next stop. “you know, why you couldn’t firebend?” 

the prince, mesmerized with his own flame, lets it slip through the wind mercily. he says, “i guess, my entire life, i viewed fire as harmful. i learned that from experience.” aang looks back at zuko, a sympathetic glance. “so when i chose peace, i guess, deep in my mind, i decided i was choosing it over firebending.” from his seat, the avatar nods. “but i didn’t have to.”

“wow, that’s cool,” the avatar muses. “but i guess now, it still doesn’t change the fact that you don’t wanna teach me?”

the prince scowls. “it’s not that i don’t want to. i just think it’s dangerous. if my sister is after me and you, i can’t risk a situation where i accidentally lead another assassin to you.”

“you won’t have to worry about that if you teach me firebending,” aang suggests. the sun reaching morning now, they find the teahouse still streaming through the waters. “i guess, we’ll have to resort to different methods.”

“if you kidnap me, i will fight you,” zuko warns as appa drops down on the ship. on the other side of the deck, the crew and the white lotus wave. aang snickers, retiring to his room, and zuko, with a proud smile, approaches jang and his pot of tea. “here, let me.”

and, watching iroh’s smile grow, the tea steams through the spout. “some good firebending, zuko.”

“wow, that was pretty _hot_ , lee,” feng jokes. zuko rolls his eyes, heading up to the upper deck, and walks in on toph, sitting on the deck with her legs crossed. 

“i didn’t know you meditate.”

“i don’t,” she scoots in her seat towards his voice. zuko, hesitantly, sits before her. down on the main deck, iroh relishes in kook winning a game against bumi. _i taught her well._ “i was just waiting for you.”

“why?”

she wastes no time in responding. “from the moment i met you, i knew you had a secret. the way you breathed, your heart beat; there was something you kept from us. i just didn’t think anything of it. you were always honest about your intentions.” zuko’s breath hitches, he feels his heart race, and toph, sensing it all, nods her head. “now, i can tell aang is keeping a secret, too. katara and sokka may be oblivious, but i’m not. and since i helped you out earlier, i think i deserve some compensation.”

“i-i don’t--”

“don’t try to lie, lee,” toph growls. 

and zuko considers it, letting the earthbender in on the secret. toph sits restlessly, waiting for his answer as she cracks her knuckles. a reckless type, one for fun and jokes. this could be his biggest mistake. but he admits, “yes, aang and i have a secret.”

“is it about him?” 

“no.”

“about us?”

“no.”

toph tilts her head. “you? just you?”

zuko nods. and then, he says, “yeah.”

and the girl puts a finger to her chin, deep in thought. “you’re both tight lipped when it comes to the royal family. especially with zuko and azula--see, there it is again.” zuko curses. “you know them? both of the siblings?” _yes_ , he answers. she nods attentively. “are you trying to capture aang for them?” _no_ . “are you trying to hurt aang?” _no_ . “hm. do you have any kind of weird thing against aang? any of us?” zuko sighs. _no_. then, after pondering it, toph stands up, stretching her arms. “that decides it then. your little boy secret isn’t dramatic enough to be important.”

“what--really?” toph grapples the railing, swinging over it and landing on the deck below. “you don’t even wanna know?”

“no. it’s probably some weird crush,” toph responds. she yawns. and, with a shrug, she waves. “see you, firebender.”

  
  


despite zuko’s warnings, the avatar resorts to said drastic methods. after the avatar-and-friends crew leave on appa for ember island--as per iroh’s suggestion; _there’s a beach house the royal family never uses. besides, beach season just ended a few weeks ago_ \--zuko resumes his ordinary tea schedule, while also throwing his firebending training in the mix. 

“of all the firebenders i’ve trained against,” jang pants, pausing to gulp down some water. zuko does the same, wiping the sweat on his neck with a towel. “your fire is one i haven’t quite seen.”

“it looks a lot like iroh’s, remember?” daito says on the couch, feng’s legs spread out over his lap. “like when he tried that cool dragon mouth trick?”

“yes, trick indeed,” iroh nods from his seat. “zuko has learned true firebending from the sun warriors and the ancient firebenders. modern firebending nowadays ignores all aspects of it.”

“alright,” jang sets his water down, stepping back on the mat. “ready to dance again?” and zuko chuckles, taking his place on the mat, before jang looks up. “on second thought…”

zuko, already expecting it, dives and rolls over his shoulder just as appa swoops past. as the bison rises, turning and preparing to dive once more, they hear aang’s faint voice--”dang it! how’d he know!”

“i told you, no kidnapping!” zuko shouts. they’re lucky the guest rooms have thick soundproof walls. 

sokka laughs as appa dips down beside the ship. “what’re you gonna do about it?” zuko, with a heavy breath, bounces light on his feet as he steps forward, drags his other foot behind him, and, with a small twist, aims a clear line of fire with his swinging arm. “oh, crap! aang, he’s firebending!”

zuko misses on purpose, allowing aang to steady himself. the avatar stands upright as appa meanders around, cautiously waiting for zuko’s flames. the crew sits on the couches and chairs, silently commenting on the exchange as zuko twists his hips, kicking two blasts that land on either side of the bison. the smoke dissipates mid-air, and zuko aims another shot with his fist. as the fire advances, aang, with his arms wide and relaxed, pulls the fire towards him and, pushing his hands, throws it back down on the prince. “woah! lee, did you see that cool trick i did?”

as the ball of fire returns to him, zuko splits it into two and lowballs them at the avatar. appa maneuvers past them, and atop him, aang gleefully shoots his own blast at the prince. zuko conjures his own fire, and the two bright, sunkist flames meet in the middle, exploding wildly, before showering down on the ship in bright, wispy specks, all pulling away in the wind. the crew claps at the spectacle, jeong-jeong and iroh whispering their remarks, and zuko, exhausted, lets sokka lasso him on board as appa passes the ship by. 

“oh, he’s sweaty,” sokka remarks, drawing back his hands from the prince’s shoulders. 

“he stinks,” toph scrunches her nose. “throw him back.”

“i was training, what did you expect?” zuko asks, glaring at the judgemental teens. at aang, he says, “i told you, if you try to kidnap me, i will fight you.”

aang laughs. “that was so fun! we were like playing catch! with fire!”

“looked a bit like waterbending,” katara notes. 

“sounded like a bunch of fire,” toph adds.

“smelled like some tea was brewing,” sokka finishes, staring back at the ship. “aang! go back! maybe we can get some tea.”

“yeah, and some mooncakes,” katara adds. convinced, the avatar nods, and appa turns, heading back to the teahouse much to zuko’s relief. the flying bison settles down on the cushioned foam on the back deck. 

“lee, i thought we were going to lose you forever,” feng wails, throwing a towel at the prince. “now wipe off, we gotta set up tables soon.”

  
  


the next few days continue just the same: training in the morning with a half-chance of getting kidnapped, serving tea throughout the day with another half-chance of getting kidnapped, and, after music night, training at night with a much higher, almost definite chance. sometimes they’d catch him by surprise, other times the shadow on the ship gave it away. the avatar and co soon realized zuko was more likely to firebend when no customers were around, but when customers _were_ around, he was more likely to be carrying around a pot of tea. such a dilemma was one they teased with, varying with firebending and tea throughout the days. 

the avatar, through it all, was improving, and taking more risks. one morning on the training mat, while zuko and jang were circling the each other, there came a call from the sky, “flameo hotman!” as aang fell gracefully down on the ship. he broke his fall with a gust of wind, inadvertently knocking zuko and jang back. “hey, guys, ready for another match?”

“you two fight, i’m exhausted,” jang groaned, collapsing onto the couch as kook handed him a cup of water. 

turning to the avatar, he began the fight with a gentle sway of his arms, circling his feet, and sending over testing waves of flames at aang. the avatar responded just as gently, blocking and returning them with ease. after the same exchange they upped the intensity, ignoring sokka’s and feng’s hollers of _beat him aang!_ and _knock him out lee!_ aang followed zuko’s past advice, aiming directly for his feet, while the prince daintily avoided each blast. twisting and turning, zuko dodged, taking the time between aang’s breaths of fire to advance closer. 

“don’t be so direct,” zuko advised as he closed in on the avatar, settling in for close combat. he threw a punch over aang’s shoulder, and the avatar dipped, sliding on the mat between zuko’s legs. zuko kicked a blast behind him, which aang dodged, and before the avatar could settle on his feet, zuko aimed a shot on the mat. before aang landed in the fire, he flipped backwards, using the air to put it out. “push me to where you want me to be.”

aang nodded, sending a hit on zuko’s right side. the prince darted to the left, before narrowly dodging aang’s second perfectly-timed blast by a hair. “like that?” the prince nodded. “cool.”

the fights usually went like that, with aang letting jang take a breather and zuko voicing pointers for the avatar to improve on. eventually, aang started doing the same, implementing more waterbending, earthbending, and airbending tactics that zuko studied intensely. and, of course, the avatar’s friends grew restless of hovering in the air and watching fights ensue; whenever they saw an opening, one or the other joined the fray--toph and her meteorite treasure, which she was tactfully resourceful with; sokka and his sword, which piando praised; and katara and her water whips, earning much of kook and daito’s cheers and master pakku’s proud nods.

in the end, whoever had the least odds determined whether zuko would be kidnapped or not: if zuko was too burnt out to take on aang and katara or sokka and toph or any other mix, then up on appa’s saddle they’d go; but if zuko was especially in his element or, sometimes, jang--and, on one momentous occasion, a roused up jeong-jeong--joined in, they’d settle for some tea before heading back to ember island. his kidnapping journeys were quite entertaining--they even brought him to a play once--but oftentimes dangerous. 

that was apparent when the avatar and co, having grown tired of their beach house, decided to stay at sea with the crew for a few days. during an early morning, zuko and jang were messing around on the training mat, attempting tackling and wrestling as per jee’s instructions. when jang grew tired of landing on his back and zuko tired of getting the wind knocked out of him, they took a break, letting haku and feng continue the wrestling matches. setting down his cup of water, zuko had finally noticed sokka on the upper deck, eyes on the other side of the horizon. 

and so, the prince climbed on deck with a mooncake in hand. “hey,” he greeted. sokka scooted over, letting zuko settle into the space beside him, and took the mooncake with a _thanks_. “why the long face?”

sokka took a bite of the dessert before ushering in a sigh. “i just miss my dad sometimes.”

“oh,” zuko nodded. 

“you’ve been around, right? even the fire nation?”

“sure,” the prince shrugged. “why?”

“is there a special prison for, hm, i don’t know,” sokka mused, scratching the back of his neck. “war prisoners and criminals?”

that was the beginning of zuko’s first journey with sokka, one to the boiling rock. initially, he was hesitant to even suggest such a journey or a place--providing the offhand comment, _i’m never happy_ \--but sokka was insistent, and, well, who could deny a kid his father? he hauled out the war balloon he stole from the invasion from below deck--mara nearly considered cutting up the fabric for more practical uses--and, together, they left the crew at dawn, leaving aang and co with the note, _going fishing together_ . _meet at ember island._

“so, i think i’m the only one who’s asked you yet,” sokka begins, throwing pebbles over the edge. zuko looks over, hardly interested, after an eternity of clouds and ocean. “but seriously, how have you not gotten a girl yet?”

zuko nearly chokes on his spit, expecting less of a personal question and more of a _so how do you recognize your uncles since they’re twins?_ “i--uh, well,” the prince stutters. “i mean, i dated a few. maybe two.”

“two? who?”

“there was a girl, jin,” zuko recalls. “i was passing through an earth kingdom port. she said she was going to ba sing se with her father. and then she asked me out. i gave her a coupon for a tea discount.” sokka snorts. “she told me she wanted to be a writer, and, i don’t know, after the third date i had to leave for the next stop. feng was pretty sad for me.”

“you ever meet her again?”

“well, when we were in ba sing se, i thought about it,” zuko admits, peeking his head out in the wind. “but, well, i didn’t even know where she lived and if she’d remember me.”

“ah, that’s rough, buddy,” sokka pats him on his shoulder. “what about the second?”

“another girl, mai,” zuko nods. “we grew up together. we met again when i was forced to come back to the fire nation.” sokka grunts. _a fire nation gal?_ “she was...the only thing i liked out of being back there. it was like she reminded me of what it was like, when things were nice.” he shrugs. “but i didn’t like her like that. i liked the things i already had outside of the fire nation.”

“hmm, you know what you want,” sokka notes. “anybody else?”

the prince shrugs, recalling blurred faces--meeting eyes, exchanging smiles, and then, all in the end, them on the docks, and him drifting at sea. “couple girls, couple guys i met along the way. just talking, though. i haven’t actually dated anyone since.”

“a _couple_ , huh? what a loverboy,” sokka jokes and zuko rolls his eyes. then, ushering in a sigh, the watertribe boy leans into his arms and laments about his own love, “my first girlfriend, you might recall, almost turned into the moon.” zuko offers a _hm_. “well, after that, it didn’t really work out because, you know, she’s a princess. she’s gotta lead the water tribe and stuff like that in the future. and, you know, i gotta help save the world with the avatar.” sokka sighs. “so, that was the end of it.”

zuko nods. he returns the pat on the boy’s shoulder. “that’s rough, buddy.”

“and, well, there’s this girl suki,” sokka’s frown lifts into smiles in the palm of his hand. “she’s a warrior. beautiful. and kicks ass, too.” the prince hums in agreement. _sounds cool._ “i met her on kyoshi island.”

“suki? i remember when she dated this other guy,” zuko muses. back in his not-so-long-ago hunting days, one mention of the _i need to find the avatar_ sent the kyoshi boy into a foaming craze. suki’s reason for dating him-- _well, he seemed nice._ they lasted for three dates. 

“suki? you know her?”

“from kyoshi island?” the prince shrugs. “i sell tea there.”

no sooner into their break-in at the boiling rock, zuko lands himself in prison, caught between the warden, aka mai’s uncle--who knows him as prince zuko--and sokka--who knows him as lee, the tea server, the good firebender, the only fire-nation royalty worthy of being trusted, and so on. meeting the warden is short lived, but enough to get on zuko’s nerves. 

“oh, right, you know each other,” sokka beams, walking down the stairs to find zuko and suki mopping the floors together. “i hope, not too well?” suki shoots an exasperated look. “what? lee’s a catch, suki, i’m surprised you didn’t even consider him before meeting me.”

“i’m just happy somebody called me a catch,” zuko mumbles. at suki, he says, “you know, we sell pudding now.”

“pudding?” she muses, huffing a breath at the strand of hair poking her eyes. “hm, maybe i should try some sometime.”

“you can, once we…” sokka lowers his voice, ushering the two away from the two other guards. “you know, break out of here. and i think i have a plan.”

  
  


“how did it end up like this?” zuko silently groans, holding up a mattress as sokka exclaims _take that_ while punching it. the guards on the other side of the door chuckle. 

“okay, we have a new plan, but it’s gonna need a big distraction,” sokka informs. “be in the yard in one hour.”

after sokka leaves and the guards drag zuko to an interrogation room, his shouts of _i didn’t go anything wrong_ and _let me go_ fall silent at the sight of mai, standing over him with an indifferent greeting. “h-how did you know i was here?”

“the warden’s my uncle, you idiot,” mai grumbles, crossing her arms.

zuko looks down at his hands, muttering, “i thought you wouldn’t want to see me. you know, after what i said.”

and mai stands silent, biting her lips. with a huff, she says, “i always thought i knew you. i mean, we grew up together.” zuko sinks into his seat. “but i guess i don’t.”

the prince stares up at her and her steeled gaze. “mai, i--”

“tell me you’re not helping the avatar.” mai bends down to his eye level, taking his hands. “tell me you care about me.”

“i do care about you,” zuko nods, though his hands stay idle. mai knows. “i-i care about you a lot--”

“no, you don’t,” mai scoffs, letting go. “you couldn’t even kiss me.”

“i’m sorry, mai,” zuko apologizes. “and yes, i am helping the avatar, but it’s not me choosing him over you--”

“it is, and you know it.” mai edges, raising her voice over his. “you’d choose a boy over your own nation. your own family.” then, in his silence, she adds, “over me.”

“i-it’s not like that,” he explains. “it’s not a choice. i’m saving the fire nation by helping the avatar. please, believe me.” he reaches for her hands, but she shoves him away. “mai, i--”

“i don’t want to hear it,” she decides, backing away. “you leave people behind because you’re never happy with what you’ve got. you left azula to your father and you left me to deal with her stupid problems and fits. you didn’t even say goodbye! do you realize how wrong that is?”

burning, his hands slide up to his hair. mai continues, “why? why the avatar? what, is it some revenge? to get back at your father?” zuko shakes his head. “then what? i don’t understand. it’s the avatar or your home. the avatar or me.”

zuko drops his hands, letting them settle beside mai’s. she makes no move, and neither does he. he sits, blank and silent, and mai waits, angry and hurt. and then, when the door swings open, and mai stands tall, and the guard says, “there’s a riot going on. you should get somewhere safe.”

“i don’t need protection,” she says. she looks back at zuko, who stands from his seat. as the guard protests, zuko raises his arms, aiming a blast at the guard, who jumps in front of mai. “get off me!”

zuko runs out the room, slamming the door shut behind him, and he spares a wordless goodbye back at the angry mai, before running out to the yard. 

  
  


sokka and zuko arrive at ember island, with the water tribe boy boasting about good fish meat to the confused katara as a leeway into hakoda, suki and chit sang’s return. a cause for celebration, they decide, and they ride on appa to meet the jasmine dragon at their next earth kingdom stop--sokka was adamant about riding in style and going with the airship, but aang chose modesty. 

“so,” hakoda says, his kids snug under his arms. at lee--the boy, sweating under the attention of another adult scrutinizing him--he asks, “you’re the famous firebender tea-server i’ve been told about. i heard you were captured by the royal siblings. how’d you manage to escape?”

aang answers for him. “i kidnapped him.” 

dropping down onto the teahouse they find that the main deck is quite crowded. _they must’ve just arrived at the stop_ , zuko guesses. appa sets down on the decorated foam, and, excitedly, they all head to the empty table in the back. zuko pulls on his uniform, immediately joining in on the lunch rush with jang, mara, feng, and haku. feng, arms wide for a bone-crushing embrace, pulls zuko in with cries of, “lee! you went fishing without me!”

to celebrate the successful rescue of hakoda, chit sang and suki, an impromptu music night is held, wherein chit sang reveals his talent with the lute. iroh gleefully listens by the fire, jee plucks on his violin, and, alone on the upper deck, zuko finds katara; another solemn watertribe sibling. “shouldn’t you be with your father?”

the waterbender shrugs. “i should be happy, i know. but whenever i’m back with my father, i just think,” she reaches for her necklace. he leans against the railing, listening to chit sang’s melody. “my mother should be here. do you know your mother?” he nods. “if you could see her again—and you didn’t have to choose between her and the avatar, just, if you had a chance to see her again, would you?” 

“yeah,” zuko answers. “you?”

“yeah,” she replies, almost immediately. she spots her father laughing and patting sokka on his shoulder. “my mother was taken during a fire nation raid on our tribe. i was so little back then, i couldn’t understand what was going on. i ran to my mother’s tent, and a man was standing over her. he wanted information. she told me to leave. i ran to my father, as fast as i could, but when i got back, she was gone.”

zuko averts his gaze to the waterbender. she stands still, eyes glued on her father and brother, and even her hands, skilled with precision and tenacity, lay gentle on the rails. he wonders how often she relives that day, often enough to take it in idly. he says, “i’m sorry for your loss. your mother was a brave woman.”

she nods. “i know.” and, with a sigh, “i just want to know what happened when i left. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

and zuko, with a hesitant breath, asks, “do you remember anything about the soldiers that raided your people?”

katara pauses, peeking a suspicious glance at the prince. “sea ravens. the main ship had flags with sea ravens on them.”

and zuko ponders for a while. the teahouse once precariously crossed paths with a ship like that. he remembers iroh calling them—“the southern raiders. that’s their symbol.”

“the southern raiders took my mother?” the question is silent, soft amidst the lull of jee’s violin and jeong-jeong’s guitar and chit sung’s lute. it nearly fades in the wind. but zuko, right beside her, listens hard. an aching heart. 

“i know how to find them,” he offers. she looks at him. “i can help you find the man who killed your mother.”

the avatar and co retreated to their room after a night of laughs, songs, and tales of deathly voyages at sea. there was no firebending training tonight, the crew decided after most of the tea servers, jee, the white lotus members, and some of the traveling customers joined in on an aged bottle from the lieutenant’s hidden stash. hakoda included; they all went to their quarters chuckling wildly. and zuko, having finished helping feng and mara stack the chairs and tables, walks down to the hallway, pausing at the door where the avatar-and-friends reside. he leans an ear--coincidentally, someone had left the door unlocked, and he could see why; someone left a tray of a pot of cold tea and four empty cups. 

“...i know who did it and i know how to find him,” katara says. “i’m doing this.”

“what do you think this will accomplish?” aang asks, attempting to persuade her otherwise. zuko hears the waterbender scoff. “katara, please. haven’t you thought about how unhealthy it is to keep these negative feelings?”

“i have, which is why i need to get them out,” she reasons. “the only way how is by finding him and--”

“what, getting revenge?” as aang speaks, mara, ignoring the commotion, grabs the tray by zuko’s feet. she offers a discouraging shake of her head at the prince as she goes up to the kitchen to grab some water for the drunken tea servers. disregarding her offhand comment, zuko turns back to the door. “don’t try to pretend this is about anything else. i was there, too, katara, you saw me when those sandbenders took appa, when i learned that the fire nation took gyatso and my entire people. i almost hurt you, but you talked me down. how is that any different from now?”

“you don’t understand, aang,” she growls. 

“how do i--you sound just like jet.” aang is growing angry, zuko can tell. “you--”

“jet attacked the innocent, but i’m making this right,” katara presses stubbornly. 

“katara,” sokka speaks up, and zuko awaits his claim. the tiebreaker. he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to face suki and toph, carrying a new tray of cups and tea and mooncakes. hearing the argument inside, toph sighs, and suki, after handing zuko a mooncake, sits with the earthbender against the wall. “she was my mom too. but i think aang’s right.”

silence. and then katara, standing her ground, says, “then you didn’t love her like i did.”

suki stands upright, marching over briskly, and zuko moves aside, letting her peek in. aang steps forward. “i think--”

“no, aang, hold on.” and toph joins the two eavesdroppers, concern rising with zuko’s and suki’s at the sound of sokka’s voice, clear and cut like glass. he could only imagine what the earthbender could sense right now, what pain was racking sokka inside and out. suki sucks in a breath, no doubt itching to barge in and race to the boy’s side. “you don’t get to say that.”

“i do, because--”

“no, _you don’t get to say that._ ” his voice rises, echoing out of the room in a harsh manner. but he takes a breath, and suki bites her lip, fists clenched. he starts, nearly hushed, biting back the shaking anger. “--you don’t get to do that. you don’t. i loved her, and you don’t get to yell in my face otherwise.”

katara doesn’t speak, and they hear a shift in her brother’s steps as he turns away. “you think you’re the only one hurting, but--it hurts me too that she’s gone. and i don’t show it, because i shouldn’t, but, it does!” a sad laugh. toph turns away from the sound. “it really, really does. and the fact that you can just stand there and assume that i never felt the same way is beyond me.”

“sokka, i--”

“do whatever you want, call me a coward for all i care,” sokka’s voice carries closer to the door, and they hear his footsteps nearing. and then, he stops, “but you don’t ever tell me i didn’t love my mom.”

suki and toph return to their seats against the wall and zuko hurries his way up the stairs to the deck just as sokka pushes the metal door open. over zuko’s shoulder, he hears sokka ask, “have you seen zuko?”

suki answers faintly, “he’s up on deck.” and then, with a pause, she adds, “sokka, do you want to talk about it?”

the boy’s answer fades out as zuko climbs up to the upper deck. alone, he waits, and it’s no surprise when sokka climbs up behind him shortly after. he hears the watertribe boy’s steps behind him and he greets, reluctantly, “hey.”

sokka grabs zuko by his shoulder, the grip tight, yet he softly pulls the prince to face him. he begins, voice low, and his eyes avoiding him, “i don’t know what you talked about with katara, but you can’t bring her to wherever you’re going just for some revenge.”

“i’m not bringing her anywhere,” zuko reassures. sokka rubs his eyes tiredly, wiping away any ounce of joy he had in rescuing his father. “she brought up your mother and i told her that the ones who raided your village were the southern raiders. and i told her to think about it, if she wanted to find their leader or not.”

“we both know she’s already decided,” sokka says. taking a quick breath, he meets zuko’s eyes, less of a plead and more of a demand. “look, i know you’re just doing this because you want to be nice, but i--”

“sokka, i’m doing this to help her,” zuko says, taking the boy’s hand off his shoulder. “do you think she’d really be happy spending her life wondering about what happened to her mother, gaining no consolation whatsoever? do you think you’d be happy, either?” sokka looks down, and in him zuko sees his own lost childhood, the question of his own mother and of his own consolation. “she was your mother, too. don’t you want to know what happened?”

sokka sighs. zuko, tentatively, watches. for a moment, he reconsiders the situation, tying azula and katara together and him and sokka in the other. for a moment, he wonders if, truly, she’s thought the same too?

on the main deck, suki and toph wait, trays still waiting in their hands. “i do. her last moments? of course i want to know. but katara’s taking a risk, and not just by separating from us when it’s so close to sozin’s comet.” pausing, the boy bites his lips. “she’s spent so long wondering what she could’ve done differently as a kid, that she forgets she was just a kid. if she finds that man and what he...did to our mother--” sokka takes a moment for another deep breath. zuko knows what’s coming. “i don’t know what she'll do to herself.”

sokka stares down at his feet, his picking hands, and, hesitantly, zuko raises a hand. he moves slow, considering and reconsidering each breath, but he settles for a soft pat on the boy’s shoulder. “hey,” he says. sokka looks up at him, tired. “she’s...not easily convinced. but if there’s one thing about your sister, it’s that she knows and always thinks about the ones she cares about. the last thing she’d ever think about would be to leave you.”

sokka nods. and, sucking in a breath, he reaches an arm and pulls the prince close into a tight, unexpected embrace. he grips tight, and zuko, grunting against the iron grip, weakly wraps his arms around the boy. in a low voice, sokka demands, “you take her home safe.”

“yeah.”

“or i’ll literally kill you,” sokka threatens, pulling apart with a relieved smile. zuko rubs his arms as the watertribe boy laughs his way down to suki, pulling her in for a lively hug. toph, to the side, remarks blandly, before the three of them head down to their room. 

“zuko, come on,” jang calls moments later, slow in his steps and slurred in his words. quickly, zuko hurries, before the boy can fall down the stairs. “jee’s gonna tell us again about how he got arrested.”

“i have to say--i think you’re ready,” zuko voices, ducking under an orange blast that sweeps along the avatar’s wide kick. taking another step, he offers a hit of his own, driving close and attempting to barrel into aang’s side. aang falls with a grunt, not before softening his blow with a gust of wind that, after having tripped over it countless times, zuko has learned to jump over. offering a hand, the prince pulls the avatar to his feet. “you know, to kill the fire lord.”

aang, despite his usual exuberance at praise, merely offers a nod before stalking off the mat and wiping his neck with a cloth, offered by a timid haku. zuko does the same, and, testing the avatar’s silence, he speaks, “what’s wrong?” then, after another brief pause, he draws closer. “come on, aang.”

the avatar manages a little groan as he faces zuko, setting the cloth down. “it’s just,” he trails off, pressing his lips. then, gaze down, he admits, “i don’t know if i can.”

“what?” zuko asks as the rest of the crew move about. for the incoming morning shift, kook orders the rest to start setting up the main deck. 

“i don’t know if you know this, but avatar roku was friends with fire lord sozin,” aang relays and zuko, silently nods along. iroh’s explanation back in ba sing se was elaborate enough to gain a good enough idea from. “my past life was friends with the man that started the war. even though we know that, i saw the good that sozin used to be before turning on roku.” he meets zuko’s eyes. “i can’t kill your father with that on my conscience. the idea that even the worst person in the world still can and should be good.”

speaking back, just as hushed, zuko says, “you might spare him out of mercy, but he won’t pay you the same kindness.”

“i know,” aang says, picking up the cloth again to wipe his sweat. “i’ll figure it out.”

“when it comes down to it,” zuko says, placing a hand on the boy’s sweaty shoulder. “you’ll know what to do.”

  
  


in perhaps a week or so, zuko: was kidnapped around three times (not as often as the other week, to be honest), left with sokka on a fishing trip, landed himself in prison, met with his ex-girlfriend, escaped with sokka’s father, girlfriend, and prison buddy; and, adding into the mix, he tracked down katara’s mother’s killer, yon rha. the expedition was short, and zuko expected a day’s rest in his bunk bed--which, he got--but, to his surprise, katara arrives once more, alone, on appa. 

“what’s wrong?”

“lee, just get on.” at the girl’s stressed face, he obliges, leaving haku with his shift as appa takes off. before he can settle in, katara spills, hands shaking. “i-i came back to ember island and azula was there and aang was gone. th-they said aang went missing when we left and azula just found them and captured them.”

“what?” the question comes out loud and katara, from her seat, jumps lightly at zuko’s shock. the firebender quiets down. “h-how’d you get out?”

katara swallows. “azula wanted me to find prince zuko and bring him back to her.” as she looks back at zuko, he withers inside at her hopeless pleads. “how am i going to do that?”

“i…” in many other moments, he’d told himself, he had a choice. do or not do. this or that--but here, looking at her biting back tears, imagining the same with sokka, toph, even suki; he knows, he says it outright to himself, it’s no choice. it’s duty. his throat is dry, tight against the words he wills himself to say, but he says it anyway, “take me to her.”

“what? lee, i--”

“just trust in me, katara,” zuko urges, less of a beg and more of a desperate demand. “go back to ember island.”

his heart beats soundly for the entire journey. his lips, dry, his throat, tight, and his hands, shaking. he hadn’t thought of this, no. he never even considered it. through all the flips his stomach goes through as appa dives down to ember island, he tries to steel himself, ready himself for whatever goes wrong. whatever goes right. hesitantly, katara steps down, and, looking back at the prince with doubtful eyes, she leads him to the beachhouse azula had been keeping their friends at. “are you sure about this?”

and zuko, breathing light, says, “yes.”

at the door, zuko pushes it open before, without a second breath, the fire nation soldiers grab him and katara by the arms. they both comply at the sight of toph, sokka, and suki all bound by three dai li agents, the only ones left at azula’s side. toph looks down, testing her patience, and sokka cries through the cloth wrapped around his mouth at katara. suki begrudgingly kneels, a bruise dotting her forehead, and beside zuko, katara shouts, “let them go!”

with a pitying smile, azula sighs. “you’re in no position to make demands.” then, a laugh, and she looks at the prince, joking another jab. “remember that, zuko?”

and, just like that, all eyes lock on him. katara, seething, growls, “what?”

“what’s _‘what’_?” azula stands from her chair. with a shrug, she says, “i just asked if zuko here remembers that whole inside joke i made when i was taking him to the fire nation. what’s so wrong about that?”

“ _you’re_ prince zuko?” katara grits through her teeth, no longer struggling against the firebenders that cuff her. zuko nods, staring down at the hardwood floor. he told himself he’d grace the faults perfectly, but, with the weight of their stares, he breaks. katara pushes out the words, barely managing to contain her voice, “you liar.”

sokka yells a muffled shout through the cloth. suki summons a hardened gaze, one of near-disappointment, and toph stays silent, biding her time. azula, walking towards her brother, offers another laugh. “liar? what’s this about, zuzu? you didn’t tell him you’re a prince?” zuko stays silent. azula, in front of him, kicks lightly at his knees. “hm, i honestly don’t know what reasoning made you do that.”

“the same reasoning that made mai and ty lee turn on you?” zuko suggests. he doesn’t bother looking up, but azula, staring down at him, loses her smile, dipping down into a grimace, and, summoning all her strength, she swings her foot up, hard. she hits him in the chin, and as zuko falls back, she digs her foot into his chest. 

“killing you will be the greatest pleasure of my life,” she mutters. 

“the only pleasure i feel is knowing that my lies got me friends and your honestly left you with none,” zuko chokes out, his chin already bruising. on his chest, he feels her foot grow warm, testing his skin. he looks at katara, her teary, tired face, and sokka, his anger looking in on himself. he bites back the rest of his retorts, staring up at his sister with the demand, “you have me, now let them go.”

she raises her foot, returning to her chair with laughter. “no, you’ve got it all wrong, zuko.” as she takes her seat, the firebenders drag katara and zuko closer, before pushing them back down on their knees. “i was just waiting for you. we’re all going back home.”

“what?”

she smirks wildly. “father has named me fire lord.” zuko’s breath hitches, and she revels in the sight of his pale face. “and you’re all invited to my coronation. not the avatar, though, my father has plans for him. but you’ll enjoy it, i promise. and if not, i will, when i have you executed, one by one, as my first order as fire lord.”

katara picks up the struggle against her chains, sokka tries another yell, and zuko, through it all, meets azula’s eyes with his promised steel. “don’t worry, brother, we’ll have our duel.” a blue light blazing on her fingertips, she mocks burning her own neck. “but i’ll tell you, it won’t be much of one.”

* * *

“i know zuko has been gone for longer,” kook says, still waiting on the upper deck with an eye on the horizon. “but something about that girl’s face just worries me.” turning to jang, equally anxious, she asks, “right? or is it just me?”

“of course not,” feng calls from the main deck, watching the waters from his own post by the bow. “if it was just you then why are we all here?” he gestures to the rest of the crew--haku, by the stern; mara, opposite from feng; and daito, jee, and iroh in the bridge. they all pay once last scour from horizon to horizon for any sign of the prince’s return.

the white lotus comes out on deck, dressed and ready. iroh meets them. piandao asks, “has your nephew come back yet?”

iroh shakes his head. “we have no choice but to believe that he’s alright, and he’s safe with the avatar.” turning to the rest of the crew, as the harbour nears in sight, he says, “let’s free ba sing se.”

  
  


the journey to the fire nation capital city’s prison is short on azula’s airship, but riddled with silence and tension. and, once being locked in said prison, it only grows and grows. until now, when zuko tries, peering up at them on the other side of the wall, “i--”

“i can’t believe i trusted you,” sokka begins, voice void. he sits, tired, after having worried over katara for the past few days, and now being struck with _this_. zuko’s chest aches; of all of them, sokka was the one he couldn’t bear telling the truth to. “i was right. from the beginning, i was right.”

“sokka, i--”

“i let you near my family,” the boy continues, voice shaking with anger. then, snapping, he pulls against his chains and shouts, “i trusted you!” zuko bites his lip. “and you lied to my face!”

“you don’t get to explain yourself,” katara adds before the prince can speak. “you had so many chances, and we gave them to you and you chose yourself. what did you think you were gonna get out of this? the avatar? all of it--saving my father, helping me, all that was for show?” her voice rings out through the cell, reaching the indifferent fire nation soldiers guarding the other side of the door, and zuko, wavering under her piercing eyes, sighs. 

zuko waits, despite his aching chest, his burning skin, his itching fingers pinned together by the wrists. he waits, watching katara gather all their sweat, lining it on the cuffs of her, sokka’s, toph’s and suki’s arms, before freezing it over. sokka is the first to break out, smashing the frozen cuffs hard against the wall, and he dives toward the prince, using his free hands to pin him against the wall. zuko grunts and, before he can take another breath, sokka’s hands go for his neck. the guards outside, oblivious, don’t bother. 

“i’m sorry,” zuko chokes out, shutting his eyes. “i’m sorry.”

sokka’s hands dig into his skin, and zuko fights against his instincts, letting his hands fall limp at his sides. the air escapes and his fire flickers wildly, and he resists his own self. and sokka continues, pressing harder when the prince doesn’t bother with a struggle, until he feels a pull on his shoulder. toph says, “he’s telling the truth.”

momentarily, sokka lets go, and zuko gulps in a breath. “it doesn’t matter, he lied.”

just as sokka repositions his other hand, toph pulls him back again. “let him talk.”

“but he--”

“we’re gonna die anyway,” toph points out. “let’s hear him out.”

zuko rubs his neck. sokka stares unapologetically, and the four of them regain their seats against the wall opposite to the prince. with a beckoning hand, toph urges, “okay, explain yourself. why’d you lie?”

“i pretended to be lee so you could trust me,” zuko says. at their narrowed eyes, he quickly adds, “but it’s not like it sounds like. okay, maybe a little, i’d have to backtrack a lot, but--”

“just explain,” katara growls, crossing her arms. “we have all the time in the world.”

zuko swallows. looking down at his hands, he says, “i was banished when i was thirteen. my father said i could only return if i regained my honor by capturing the avatar.” sokka clenches his fist. zuko recalls the same reaction from aang, not too long ago. toph raises a hand, warning them, as zuko continues, “and, i did. i searched everywhere, i followed every lead. and then, we ran out of money, and we started the teahouse. and i started visiting more places, and when i wasn’t looking for the avatar, i was just serving tea, and i was meeting all these people.

“these people came from villages that were burnt down, they were running from soldiers, they were worried about the nobles taking all their money and food. i didn’t really care about it at first, but i saw more and more of it happening.” he looks up, finding them all staring at toph, who nods at each sentence approvingly. “and then i met this girl, jin,” sokka sneaks a glance at the prince. “she told me her father was running from some nobles that were demanding too much money. they were going to ba sing se so she could be safe. after that, i realized how much hurt the fire nation was doing.

“and then the day the avatar woke up, and i met him at the south pole, i was torn. half of me wanted to capture the avatar and go home. the other half just didn’t, because i was so scared.” they turn to toph for that, and she nods once more. “i didn’t want to do to him what my father did to me. i didn’t know if i could take his happiness just for my own. and i lied, yeah, i pretended to be lee. i just wanted to get a closer look at him.” he rubs the back of his neck, hands dragging each other with the cuffs. “and yeah, that was wrong. i know it was. 

“but i’ll cut the story short--i changed. for good. this is the truth, and i know my word is shit, but this, i swear, is true,” zuko insists. he looks at sokka, who avoids his eyes. “when you talked to me about how much you believed in aang, how devoted you were to helping him, i decided for the first time in years, that i was done chasing the avatar. that’s why i gave you that necklace. it was the only thing i had to track you guys.” katara’s hand instinctively shoots up to her neck as she looks to her brother. “you have every right to not trust me. i deserve that. but aang needs our--your help. you know that. i’ll help you get out and after that, we can be done. you don’t have to see me ever again.”

there the silence settles in, thick and cold, and zuko hates it. toph sits back, never once detecting a single lie. she’s in the middle of saying, “well, i guess--” when the guards open the door and azula, in her coronation garb, strolls in. 

“they’re not cuffed,” azula growls at the guards by the door, who notice all too late. “my coronation is tomorrow, and you’re letting the prisoners escape?”

“i--we didn’t--”

“you’re banished. fired,” she orders with a wave of her hand. “go, now.” the soldiers hesitantly leave, dejected in their steps. fixating on zuko, she smiles, unlocking the metal door. “come, come, zuko.”

“what are you doing?” sokka asks, looking between the two siblings. “having a royal feast to discuss who to kill first?”

azula laughs. “oh, i already know you’re going to die first, no need to discuss it.” then, to the prince, “zuko, come here, do i have to say it again?”

“just leave,” katara grovels out, looking aside. “we don’t care.”

  
  


“look, i had the cooks make our favorite,” azula smiles as they reach the dinner table, rarely used. noticing all the dust, she orders the nearest soldier to inform the maid of her termination. “anyways, sit down.” zuko sits before a bowl of his own, steaming with some broth inside. “oh, take off his cuffs, he needs to eat.” 

with his hands free, zuko rubs his neck once more. “what do you want? some last sibling breakfast together before you kill me?”

“precisely,” azula smiles. she notices his idle hands, planted on the red table cloth. “not going to eat? it’ll be your last meal.”

“the last meal i ate was with more enjoyable company,” zuko responds, crossing his arms. “i’d rather remember that.” azula grips her spoon tight, digging a spoonful of rice before dipping it in the soup. “so, father stepped down as fire lord?”

“oh, no, just the opposite,” azula responds. pausing, she bites the rice off her spoon and dabs her chin with a napkin. “he’s created a whole new title for himself. the _phoenix king_. once he conquers the earth kingdom, he’ll have dominated the entire world. so, ergo, the title, the phoenix king.”

“that sounds redundant,” zuko mumbles, clinking his chopsticks together. azula raises a testing eyebrow. “he didn’t even make an announcement. people just think he stepped down in the middle of his war.”

“well, they’ll learn when he conquers the earth kingdom and declares himself phoenix king.” she sets down her spoon, wiping the corners of her mouth once more. “don’t you want to congratulate me? i’m the new fire lord—well, not officially, yet, but—“

“you’d really take that with pride?” zuko asks. and azula, smile growing into a scowl, sets down her napkin after being interrupted once more. “a hand-me-down title because father isn’t stepping down, but stepping up? in the end, you’re still his subject.” zuko offers a sad laugh. with a meandering hand, he nudges his cup of water to and fro. “in the end, you’re a guarantee. you’re a babysitter for the fire nation while he conquers the entire world.” at that, she narrows her eyes. “you’d rather settle for that than be by his side?”

azula sighs silent at the claim, seemingly brooding over the debacle herself. but, past it, she shrugs. “i’m terribly sorry about your friends.” _no, you aren’t._ “but, i thought about it, and i understand why you’d lie. actually, i understand a lot more.” zuko looks up, unbothered to even ask _how_ . “you chose the avatar not because you’re soft. you chose him because you want to _win_.” she laughs. “of course, that thought process is misguided, thinking the avatar will win against our father. but you choose to believe that because...well, how else could you explain it? you were banished, and you just want to get back at father.”

“you’re wrong,” zuko denies. she sits back, amused. “i’ve told you before. i chose me and what i believe in. and i believe in the avatar.”

“well, say whatever you want to say,” she shrugs, pushing away her bowl of soup. the server takes the bowl and places down a small plate of dessert. “you believe what you want to believe. but i’ve seen you inside and out.” zuko scoffs. one small bite is all it takes, and the dessert is gone. she clasps her hands together. “well, i guess that settles it. would you like to have one last night in your old bedroom, or go back to your not-anymore friends?”

he stands abruptly, and the guards leech onto his arms, pulling him back. “take me back to my friends.”

back in their cell, sokka’s voice quiets down as the door swings open. azula unlocks the cell door and zuko, unscathed, sits back against his wall. the soon-to-be fire lord barely spares a smug goodbye, and on her way out the door she yells at the two new sets of guards watching the prison. the group returns to glaring at the prince, until he reaches in his pocket and brings out a metal spoon and a rolled up napkin. he unrolls the tissue, and under their cautious eyes, slides a ball of rice on the tissue across the floor, the spoon beside it. 

“do you really think this’ll make up for it?” katara asks, voice indifferent. 

zuko shrugs. “no. i just think it’ll fill you up.”

toph is the first to dig in. hesitantly, they take turns with the ball of rice, savoring each grain from their share. their soft murmurs of _katara take the rest of mine_ and _give toph this_ cease as suki stands, and, with a disdainful gaze, offers the prince the rest of her rice--barely the size of a coin in the palm of her hand. from his seat, sokka says, “suki, you don’t have to--”

“we’re all hungry,” she says, taking zuko’s hand and forcing the rice into his palm. “thanks.”

“thank you,” he murmurs. she returns to sokka’s side, who glares weakly, and pauses to rub the exhaustion from his eyes. 

“lee,” toph calls from her seat, rubbing the sticky residue of the rice from her fingers. they all turn to her, confused faces all around. “how many guards did you count outside? i don’t sense much.”

“i counted four,” zuko recounts. “there’s a room right outside that’s supposed to be full of them. it seems like azula fired most of them by now.”

“hold on, we’re not escaping with the _prince_ ,” sokka protests, said prince nibbling at his food. 

“we just might have to,” toph edges. sokka narrows his eyes. “i don’t see the problem anymore--he apologized, he offered to help, and aang already knows, so--”

“wait, what?” katara stands up, followed by sokka, and by suki, as they all stare down at the earthbender. “how--?”

“he found out when he kidnapped me,” zuko explains. katara spares a scornful gaze back at the firebender. 

“what, and he just got over it like that?” sokka scoffs. daring a step closer at the prince, he asks, “did you force him into keeping your secret for you?”

“no, he just did it out of courtesy,” he mumbles. another scoff, and sokka shakes his head in disbelief. “and no, he didn’t just get over it. he almost threw me off appa.”

“i wish he did,” katara mutters. “well, whatever. aang already knows, that’s great. i’m not working with a _liar_.”

“yeah, well i don’t have your integrity to think of, i just want to get out of here,” toph stands, grabbing the metal bars of the cell. “think about aang. he has to fight ozai, and the earth kingdom has an entire fleet of airships and soldiers coming for it. we have to do something.”

“we will, when we come up with a plan,” sokka insists. “one that doesn’t involve fire nation whatsoever.”

“okay, that’s enough,” suki says, crossing her arms. “i may not trust _zuko_ here, but i trust toph’s word, and i trust in aang’s,” the comment warrants a grimace from the watertribe siblings. “and if they’re both okay with trusting zuko to help us win, then i believe it.” sokka, in disbelief, looks between the kyoshi warrior and prince. “we need all the help we can get. and after that, we can deal with this. i for one, am not leaving this prince behind for him to get away scot-free.” cutting the argument short, she grabs zuko by the shoulders, lifting him to his feet. “punch me in the face.”

“what? i--”

“zuko, don’t even think about--”

“i’ll kill you!” suki shouts, and then, in a soft voice, “i’m sorry about this.” with a grunt, she grapples zuko once more, and throws him on the ground. kneeling down beside him with an arm raised, she apologizes once more, “again, sorry.”

“they’re gonna kill the prince!” a guard outside exclaims, peeking in through the eyeslit of the door. immediately, they barge inside--all four guards, just as zuko counted--and fumble to unlock the cell door. 

“toph, now!” the earthbender follows suki’s call, bending the metal bars. she pulls two apart, much to the guards’ surprise, and suki jumps through before they can react. as one guard raises his hand, she knocks it aside, throwing off his firebending, and hooks him in the cheek. he stumbles back, and, raising her leg, she kicks him into the other guard behind him. they fall with a heavy _oof_ , and before the other two guards can advance, zuko pushes through the bars, throwing them back with a fiery blast. 

toph steps out of the cell, standing alongside suki and zuko. the prince takes the lead, peeking out of the door, and, nodding back at the two, he disappears down the hall. hesitantly, sokka and katara follow, keeping eyes behind them, as zuko says, “azula must be getting ready for her coronation. we can sneak out before she notices.”

“there’s not a lot of people left in the palace,” toph reports. the prison empty of guards, they push through to the bleak sunlight and to an empty palace. 

suki points at the base stationed high behind the royal palace. “the airship fleet is still here. if we leave now we can reach it before it gets in the air.”

“you insolent servants!” quickly, they hide, and zuko spots where in the palace they’ve entered--the courtyard, where azula’s few last servants--the fire sages--stand, one of them holding the fire lord crown. “you didn’t bother bringing out the prisoners in time for my coronation, and now you’ve let them get away!” azula bursts through the door marching to the fire sage. she kneels before him, bowing her head. “just do it.”

the fire sage raises the crown. zuko turns to the group. “i’ll distract her and you guys can go to the air fleet.”

“what? you really think you can take her on?” sokka asks. 

“look at her,” zuko says, pointing at his sister. she kneels, her hair unkempt and uneven, her robes soiled at the sleeves. not too long ago, she sat before him, hair even and down to her shoulders, a placid smile, and her robes, clean and unstained. but, not too long ago, she still had servants. “something’s off about her. i can’t explain it, but she’s slipping.” looking back at the water tribe boy, he says, “i’ll hold her off for as long as i can, and you can do your part.”

“the fleet is already taking off,” suki points. and azula sits unaware, bowing her head. “let’s leave before we lose our chance.”

“how are we even gonna get there?” sokka asks.

“i think i can manage that,” toph raises her hand. “on my mark, we’ll go into the clearing and i’ll launch us to the closest airship.”

“you guys can go,” katara decides. “i’ll stay here with lee.” and then, correcting herself, “zuko.” and, before they can reconsider, she insists, “i’d rather not have him die to his crazy sister before we can get some proper payback. and, besides, i think aang would be...sad. you know, if he died.”

“yeah,” sokka nods. looking at zuko, his judging gaze softens. “he would.” 

“what are you waiting for?” azula growls, head still bowed, and, sharing one last silent goodbye, toph runs out in the courtyard. 

“by decree of the phoenix king, i now crown you--” the fire sage stops at the sight of sokka, suki, and toph banding together in tight formation. 

“just do i--” the ground shakes as toph, with a heavy stomp, raises a narrow pillar that juts out of the courtyard, shooting up the trio in a slanted arc. azula raises her head, following sokka’s faint scream heading for the departing air fleet. “what?”

“sorry, azula,” zuko says, stepping out onto the broken courtyard floor. “but you’re not gonna become fire lord today.” he narrows his eyes at the fire sage, who stares in contempt. “i am.”

azula scoffs. “you’re hilarious.”

“you’re going down.” looking back at katara, he says, “let me take her. it’s between her and me.” the waterbender nods, but watches the princess readily. “let’s do it. our duel, like you wanted. let’s get even.”

“oh, when i’m done with you,” azula stands, shooing away the sage with a wave of her hand. “we’ll be more than even. we’ll be done.”

“that’s not what we agreed on.”

“then i guess liars truly run in the family,” azula smirks, stepping off the platform. with a pout, she mocks at katara, “don’t worry, silly girl, i’ll spare his other eye.”

the royal siblings assume their places on either end of the courtyard, kneeling with their backs facing each other. azula sheds her red robe, revealing her armour underneath, and zuko pays one last reassuring glance at the waterbender. then, the siblings stand, meeting eye to eye. azula tilts her head. “i’m sorry it has to end this way, brother.”

the apology is meaningless, but, past the wild smirk and her smug laughs, he knows. in her eyes, he can see it all clear--the girl he left on the beach, the sister he left at sea. his mother, beginning it all, and him, ending it, by staying here. “i am, too.”

and azula advances, blue fire raging from her fingertips, cutting through earth and air to reach zuko. with each blue flame he combats with his own, orange and blue meeting and twisting together through the smoke. she rises on a pillar of blue, grinning down on him, and, just as she descends, he jumps high, staring down in contempt. they break and shatter, each flame of their own burning amongst one another, as azula races to gain the high ground and zuko stands his own. 

crouching onto his back, zuko spins and kicks streams of fire towards the princess. they break her rhythm, the blue flames fading, and as she pulls onto her feet, her hair falls out of place, resting back to her shoulders. catching his breath, zuko can sense it, the turmoil within her, ever raging and ever flickering. as she stands, composing herself, zuko can see it, too, in the way her hair frames her face--her mother, within her, ever present and waiting. 

this is their beginning. sinking into a stance, he chooses it. the end of the fight. “no lightning today, huh?” she grits her teeth. “what’s wrong? afraid i’ll redirect it?”

and she sneers, the static flames already buzzing around her pointed fingers. “i’ll show you lightning.”

zuko readies himself, arms loose and waiting, and he watches his sister intently. as she charges up, reaching her final form, he sinks his feet, preparing for the weight but--in a split second, the lightning flickers, and azula’s eyes, seething and cackling, dart to the waterbender behind him. and his breath hitches, his legs move, everything instinctively taking over, because his mind is too busy to even think of it: the last thing azula could ever consider would be abandoning her honor. 

he jumps, arm outstretched, but his thoughts are too blurred, and he tumbles to the ground, the lightning charging through his skin and escaping out into the sky. 

weakly, he watches katara finish the duel, with azula on the high ground and katara stuck in the courtyard. tired, he denies himself rest, but his body betrays him, and he closes his eyes. 

  
  


cold, within warm. zuko awakens, feeling katara’s hands on his wound. the water glows, tending to the burns, and, worryingly, katara looks down on him. “thank, katara,” he murmurs. “i’m sorry.”

“i couldn’t just let you die,” she stands, offering a hand. he takes it, climbing to his feet with a grunt. “you’re not getting off so easily.” 

zuko chuckles, though the wound bites, and, staring down at his sister, who looks between katara and him, he sighs. azula breathes hard, each breath knotting in her throat, and zuko approaches, slow. at his first step, she explodes in a roaring cry, tugging weakly against her chains. her flames burst out, drawing a line of fire before his next step, but it fades out quickly. “azula, i--”

“finish it,” she chokes out, shutting the tears from her eyes. she kneels, just as she did before the fire sage, glaring up at her brother. “end it for me.”

“i won’t.”

“do it, you coward!” she shouts, taunting with a wavering smile. she tries a laugh, but it settles, tired. “kill me. this is the only way to regain your honor.”

“enough about honor,” zuko says, gently, and he kneels down before her. “you won’t listen to me,” slowly, he raises a hand, and she watches it threateningly. she fights her chains as he places it on her shoulder, weak and fleeting. “but i’ll say it over and over again. we are the only family we have left. i--”

“get your hand off me!” she screams. katara draws closer. “you won! you got your revenge! kill me, and father will regret it all. he’ll regret ever hurting you.”

“it’s not about him.” letting go, he sighs in exasperation. “it’s about you and me. we can have a life together. be like brother and sister.” she avoids his eyes, looking aside with a scowl. “i’m not leaving anymore. and you can push me away, all you want, but i’m staying.”

“i don’t want you to. go, leave me again!” she glares at katara. “and take your stupid friends with you! how can you still be with him after that, after he lied to you? showed you who he truly is?”

“you don’t have to answer that,” zuko says, but katara steps forward. 

daringly, she kneels beside zuko, a cautious gaze dropping down into pity. azula seethes at the sight and at the words, “zuko lied about his identity. and, he should be blamed for that. but he never lied about his passion.” the waterbender looks to him and offers a small smile. “i believe his true self is more than just a prince. he’s a good person, with good values, and even i admit that.”

zuko takes the words with a grateful smile, exchanging a thankful nod, and azula looks away. she mutters, “well, you’ll regret ever trusting him. he’ll show himself for who he truly is and you’ll turn on him when he believes in you most. you’ll leave, like friends always do.”

“the lack of faith you have in people is heartbreaking,” katara muses. met with silence, she stands. “what are you going to do with her?”

and zuko ponders it. releasing azula would feel like a three-year banishment for her, one for humiliation and resentment. locking her up in prison, however, would be even worse. standing, he stalks around the princess, before bending down and untethering her chains to the grate. for added protection, katara uses the water under the grate to freeze her hands together. pulling her to her feet, zuko tugs on her arm. “where’s appa?”

“who’s that?”

“the flying bison.”

“oh, i had him for breakfast,” she snickers, though they find it unamusing. “fine--over there. i was going to imprison him forever.” katara sends a scornful glare. “what, you don’t like humanities projects? he’s the last of his kind.”

they find appa in a small garden courtyard, chained on all six legs to the ground. upon freeing him, katara climbs to the reins, and the two royalty siblings stand aside, until she says, to the prince, “well? aren’t you coming?”

“i thought--well, you know, i help you guys win and we’re done.”

“nothing is done until we say it is,” katara insists, tilting her head towards the saddle. reluctantly, zuko nods, hoisting himself along, before gently urging his sister to climb aboard. “what?” the waterbender does a double take at the sight; princess azula aboard appa’s saddle. “no, we’re not taking her.”

“well, i have to look after her,” zuko protests, sitting right beside her. with an irritated _tsk_ , azula scoots away. “follow where the airships went. i think they were headed for the wulong forest.”

  
  


on appa, katara, zuko, and azula ride in tense silence, with katara paying cautious glances back at the princess and azula scrutinizing the chains on her wrists with a grimace. zuko, sitting aside, precariously glances down at the passing ocean, waiting for the wulong forest to arrive. then, suddenly, and quite soundly, his sister begins, “your firebending was...unnatural.”

he faces her as she looks away, following the clouds on the horizon. “unnatural?”

the princess offers no response, and, for some time, zuko brushes it off. then, again, her voice, void of any snark or sneer, “it was different. than how yours used to be.”

zuko nods, and before the silence returns, katara, with an aggravated sigh, looks back and says, “zuko, she wants to know how your firebending got better.”

“well, not how--just _why_ ,” azula races to correct, gracing the waterbender with a scowl. katara returns it, before facing front once more. “your firebending at ba sing se was...subpar.” zuko winces. in the corner of his eye, he spots katara snicker. “and before that, it was far worse. but, today, well, you lost, still, but--it,” she pauses, and says, seemingly with some difficulty, “it was good.”

and zuko, taking however small acknowledgement it was, nods along. “thanks.”

and then, biting the bullet, she lets out a groan, grueling out, “well, why?” katara chuckles, smug. “what do you think i was saying all that for? to boost your small ego?”

“well, you could’ve just asked,” the prince retorts and azula, with an irritated sigh, crosses her arms, minding the chains that clatter along. “you won’t believe me, but it’s nothing about strength or power. not fighting, or breaking down resistance. it’s just, you know, you.”

“ _you_?” azula repeats, unconvinced.

“yes,” the prince chuckles. he raises his arm to the clouds, cutting through the winds with his fingertips. pulled by the wind are small blazes of fire spouting from his palms that, gentle and light, recede and fade out behind them. “you and i were taught to carry a drive of anger and victory that fuels us to fight and win. but i learned, when there was nothing to win or fight against, that you’re at your strongest when you choose you. yourself.”

the answer is short and clipped, with zuko mulling over what else to say, and azula scoffs. “really?” she nearly laughs. “that’s it? some self-coddling advice about accepting yourself and being happy? that’s what helped you win?”

“what more is there to it than that?” zuko offers, careless as he brings down his arm with a shrug. “father banished me to teach me obedience. but i came back with my own beliefs, my own ground, my own power, and i couldn’t care less when it angered him. spited him.” silently, he knows, azula questions him, wearily glancing at his scar once more. “because i knew i deserved better than him, whatever he could give me.”

“how could you know that?” she mutters, pulling her arms in closer.

“because i deserve a father that thinks about me. how much he cares about me, how he loves me for who i am and what i believe in.” and, at the thought of that, zuko smiles, recalling _zuko put on a thicker coat_ and _thank you, zuko_ , and so much more. he looks to his sister, just as she meets his eyes, and he says, “you deserve that, too.”

  
  


“..king of the...guys who...don’t win?” suki suggests, attempting to join in the fun, but is met by sokka and toph’s unamused silence. 

“leave the nicknames to us, honey.”

“okay, so, how’re we supposed to take mr. not-anymore-phoenix-king to prison?” aang asks, heaving said unconscious phoenix king on his shoulder with sokka’s help. 

suki darts a thumb back at the airship. “we saved one back there, and--”

“or, you can jump in on this stylish flying bison,” katara offers as appa swoops down behind them, zuko and azula in tow. “i’ve got the royal siblings taking up space in the back, though.” she jumps off appa with ease, while zuko attempts to convince a disinterested azula to meet the avatar and his friends. 

“the prince and his..sister,” sokka comments as the duo approaches; an anxious prince and a grimacing princess. then, with a sigh, sokka draws closer, offering a hand. “well, i gotta hand it to you. you really saved us back there.”

zuko takes it gladly. “tha--”

sokka yanks hard on the hand, tightening his grip with a tough smile. then, in a low voice, “i’m not letting you off the hook, though.”

“none of us are, prince zuko,” katara adds. then, with a shrug, and a pitiful glance at the incapacitated azula, “or, i guess we should call you firelord zuko.”

and aang, out of relief, lets out a happy sigh. “i’m so glad you guys found out! gosh, it was bugging me all the time, i was worried _i_ was gonna say it!”

“we’re gonna have to talk about that, too, aang,” sokka says, turning to the now-nervous avatar. “keeping secrets--i expected better from you, guru goody-goody.”

back in the fire palace, an airship and a flying bison land, carrying the avatar, an unconscious once-firelord, an almost firelord, her brother, and friends. they step off onto the courtyard, all empty except for the fire sages, awaiting with the fire lord crown. zuko dismisses them, saying, “let’s put the coronation off.”

“are you really becoming the next firelord?” sokka asks, stepping off appa beside the prince. 

zuko shrugs. “honestly, i’d rather stick to serving tea. but there’s a lot to fix, in and out of the fire nation.” he rubs the back of his neck. “i guess i’ll have to put off tea-serving for a while.”

“try a year,” aang laughs, patting him on the back. then, turning, he shifts ozai’s weight on his shoulder. “so, where do we put him?”

“most definitely, prison,” zuko answers. then, looking back at azula, he offers, “i’ll take him. you guys get some rest.”

carrying his own unconscious father isn’t easy. it’s less about the man’s heavy weight and more about the feeling, the idea of it--his father, who scarred him, who banished him, who drove his mother away, who justified burning him, and more, and more; dormant on his shoulder, arm wrangled around his frame in a something of a small embrace. and zuko, having once dreamt of such a hold, doesn’t like it. through his heavy breaths of hoisting his father upright repeatedly, he counts the seconds before the man awakens, returning to his former rage. and azula, fed up with zuko’s slow pace, shoulders ozai on the other side. 

at the prison, zuko lays his father on the ground, tempted to be less than gentle. azula watches, and when he locks the cell door, she asks, dauntingly, “oh, are you giving us separate cells?”

“no,” zuko says, guiding her out of the prison. 

  
  


the first day after the battle at wulong forest--the phoenix king dethroned, the earth kingdom saved, and the almost-firelord incapacitated--zuko leaves, just for a moment, at dawn. his sister sleeps dormant, (the very first thing he’d checked for) or so he hopes, but with his exhaustion mulling over the doubt, he settles for the pond in the courtyard garden. with no sunlight, only dim moonlight, the turtleducks, too, stay dormant, slumbering beside their mother in a hand-made shelter. zuko, biting back a groan from his hissing wounds, slowly lays himself down on the tiled concrete. far less comfortable than a bed, but it keeps him awake.

the silence lasts for a few moments, passing by in mindless charity, and he looks up at the static sky, a midnight blue muffled by thick grey clouds passing through the far moonlight. a time ago, that zuko can barely recall, he once stood on the main deck of the jasmine dragon--swaying by the waves; and he nearly imagines himself now, flat on the ground, victim to waves and tides as he was before--watching the same sight, wondering if two views of the same sky were, indeed, the same. now, he answers himself:  _ no _ . and he doesn’t know why.

like that one night, its silence broken by crunching glass, the peace dwindles down as, in the far distance, a door slides open. and, almost faint, he hears, “lee? i-i mean, zuko! are you okay?”

the hesitant steps build into a rushed, worried approach. he doesn’t bother moving. drawing closer, sokka slows his hurry, relieved. he bends down beside the prince, peeking at him, “why’re you out here all alone? some introspective thought?”

“no,” he sits up. sokka sits down. “why, what’s wrong?”

“toph said she  _ felt _ someone go outside,” sokka explains. “she’s such a light sleeper, sometimes we can’t even sleep because she feels a  _ leaf _ move. i came out to check so they could go back to sleep.”  _ hm. _ “why are you out here? you should be resting.”

in all other instances, zuko would shrug. but, minding said wounds, he settles for a short sigh. “the last few times i’ve been here, it hasn’t been pleasant.” the agni kai, breaking into his room to steal his broadswords before confronting his father, and getting kidnapped--not so pleasant at all. “i don’t know, i just couldn’t sleep in my old bed anymore.”

sokka nods along, contemplating how to respond. zuko spares a glance at the water tribe boy; his careless hands, his thoughtless gaze. meeting his eyes, zuko recalls that one moment, in this very courtyard, where he viewed him less than friendly. and it comes blurting out, “how bad did i hurt you?”

“what?” it’s a surprise for both of them. “what do you mean?”

“i lied to you.” the reminder warrants a short grimace. zuko continues, scooting in his seat to face him. “for nearly a year, i lied to you. i served you tea, came close to your sister, your father, a--”

“zuko, please.”

he bites his lip, and down with it the rest of his list. sokka avoids his eyes, looking down at his feet, and zuko settles for, “i hurt you. i know, out of all of you guys, my lie hurt you the most.” a heavy sigh. sokka raises his head, looking aside. “how can you trust me now?”

their so-called friendship was always peculiar. zuko can’t quite place where sokka began to trust him--after learning he was a firebender--and where they began to view each other as friends. on his end, zuko learned the watertribe boy to be a strategic one, a thoughtful one, and, like all others, a doubtful one. he can’t fathom what sokka learned him to be. 

“do you not trust me, now?” zuko asks. sokka clenches his jaw, offering a soft sigh. “i-it’s okay, i understand, it’s just--”

“what do you want from me?” his voice asks, quiet. his hand comes to his neck, rubbing his skin, and he meets his eyes, “you want me to tell you how much it hurt? to learn the one fire nation friend i convinced myself to trust and care about was actually lying to my face the entire time we’ve known each other?” zuko can’t help but wince. “yeah, i’ll tell you: out of all the fire nation buddies i’ve ever faced, you were the one that got to me the most. what hurt the most isn’t that you hid your name. i trusted you with my life, my sister’s life, aang’s,” sokka bites his lips, mulling over his last words, but, with hard breath, he says it, “and you just didn’t trust me with yours.”

zuko takes his turn in silence, offering no response as he averts his gaze to the ground. what he expected--pure honesty--was exactly what he earned, yet he sits, unprepared for it all. and sokka sits the same, biting his lips once more to quell whatever was left in his chest. with a quarter of his courage, zuko raises his eyes, landing on the boy’s belt and, attached to it, a sword in its sheath. zuko stands abruptly, much to sokka’s surprise, and more so at the quiet order, “stay here.”

the prince flees the courtyard in somewhat of a hurry, and, crossing through the open door, he runs into aang, katara, toph, and suki, all lined up against the wall. as they stutter in their explanations--for the most part, eavesdropping--zuko brushes past, barging into his room. and, after retrieving what he wanted, he pauses in his steps, stopping to peak inside azula’s room. “you’re awake.”

“you think i can sleep with all this moving around?” the princess snaps, sat upright in her bed. quietly, zuko shuts the door, and embarks on his route back to the courtyard, passing the still-stuttering avatar and co by. aang spots the broadswords in zuko’s hands, but before he can manage a question, zuko rushes past. 

sokka spots zuko’s silhouette immediately, and rises at the sight of the prince approaching slow, swords in either hand. “what the hell?”

“fight me.” another order, and zuko throws one sword off to the side. he tests the other blade, despite his aching limbs, and lures the watertribe boy into a stance. 

“what?”

“out of all my fire nation buddies, i was the one you didn’t get to fight,” zuko says, raising his sword. instinctively, sokka does the same. the avatar and co file out into the courtyard, cross between interrupting and watching some impromptu swordfight. “now fight me.”

sokka narrows his eyes. “what do you think--”

zuko spares no time, closing in with a wide arc of his sword. katara gasps, suki edges closer, and as sokka doges, aang calls out, “zuko! what are you doing?”

“spirits, does no one care about sleep?” azula arrives, blowing her bangs away from her face. then, spotting the swords in the moonlight, “oh, a fight?”

the sun begins its mellow rise, breaking the midnight blue with a sliver of orange, and sokka, sorting himself out, tries for a jab at the prince’s sword-holding hand. jerking his wrist, zuko smacks sokka’s meteorite sword aside, and as the boy tumbles forward, zuko rises his knee to meet with sokka’s chin. the watertribe boy grunts, rubbing his chin, and zuko orders, “don’t try to avoid a fight. this is the one chance i’ll give you to fight me.” sokka stands, unconvinced, and so at suki, zuko calls, “don’t worry. i won’t hurt him too bad.”

at the snide comment, sokka advances once more with a vicious call. they meet in the middle, swords clanging together and hissing as they push, sokka with his seething grunts and zuko with his aching arms. before the other can break through, zuko relents, stepping back to separate and once more, on his left, to narrowly avoid another jab at his shoulder. azula muses from her spot, and zuko gains a small smile, “that’s more like it.”

the fight continues, spreading out along the courtyard, and zuko’s taunts cease as the sun enters its arc and sokka’s anger grows. the avatar and co watch, timid and tense, with every move the prince and sokka take. somewhere down the line, sokka falls to the ground, and zuko relents, letting him regain his stance. after the hitch, the exchange goes on with every step and breath, as zuko grows tired and sokka angrier. 

“his wound isn’t healed enough for him to fight properly.” katara finds herself watching the prince intently, grimacing at every small wince the boy makes. “sokka will hurt him.”

“no, he’ll stop. we should let him have this,” aang advises, repeating his advice,  _ let it out, and then, let it go _ . 

in the final exchange, sokka maintains an offensive approach, luring zuko in with a high arc. as the prince raises his sword, a bit too high, to block, he recedes to his pained chest, his sword wavering; and sokka rushes in before the next breath, knocking the broadsword out of the prince’s hand with a backhand swipe, and steps down on zuko’s foot before he can back away. zuko falls flat on his back with a grunt, the air escaping him, and sokka draws in, standing over him with hardened eyes and his ebony sword. 

katara holds her breath, aang holds her hand, toph waits patiently, azula suffices with an awaiting smugness, and suki watches, intent. between his deep breaths and his protesting limbs, zuko surrenders his arms, letting them settle on his pounding chest. and he meets sokka’s eyes, biting back his smile, waiting for sokka’s flushed face to dip into a grimace. and then, no words offered, the watertribe boy drops his sword, landing with a loud clatter on the prince’s left. 

and then, he lets his smile break through, and it grows as sokka reaches down for his hand and heaves him to his feet. it grows, more so, and zuko lets a laugh slip through, as sokka wipes his neck with the back of his hand. he takes the boy by his shoulder, and through his panting breaths, he says, “now you see. i trust you with my life.” and then, drawing closer, “i always have.”

as the avatar and co advance, worried and relieved all the same, sokka’s hardened gaze lightens up with a chuckle. “fine.”

* * *

“let me read it,” azula urges, reaching for the paper.

zuko grounds his palms against it, holding it to the table with a tired yawn, “no, i’m not done.” azula persists, snagging the corner of the page. “i’ll read it out later, just wait.”

“don’t let her read it, she might sabotage your plans,” katara warns, standing and attempting to look over the prince’s shoulder to read his notes. to no avail, with the prince flipping the paper over, she falls back into her seat with a huffed  _ fine _ .

“nobody gets to read it yet, i’m not done writing,” zuko responds and they all protest with disappointed groans as he yawns. leaning his chin against his palm, he turns the paper over and scans his scrawled notes with tired eyes, murmuring under his breath about  _ bosco _ and  _ reparations _ and  _ tea. _

then, after another painstaking moment of silence, sokka rises from his seat with a brisk call, “that’s it! time’s up, you’ve been writing it for the past three days.”

past three days indeed. sokka snatches the paper from the prince’s weak hands, and before he can read it aloud, azula raises a testing hand. and sokka, with an exasperated sigh, hands her the paper, not bothering to try her threat. clearing her throat, the princess reads, as sokka sits back down with a huff, “okay, let’s see...discussions to include princess yue of the northern water tribe and earth king kuei--oh, i wonder how he is these days--about ceasing all conquered territories, releasing hostages and displaced refugees, and paying reparations...and...that’s it?”

“that sounds very...thought out,” sokka muses, but azula slams the paper back on the table with a  _ tsk _ . 

“it sounds  _ unrealistic _ ,” azula says, much to sokka’s annoyance. the avatar and co sit on their couches, awaiting more of azula’s shrewd jabs and jeers, something of the young avatar, of zuko’s sailor hair, of the homemade meals. “ceasing all conquered territories--what about the fire nation colonies that are as old as the war? what of the fire nation families that have to leave behind their home and family history? releasing hostages and paying costs--fine, sure, go ahead, but have you paid a thought to how many people in your own nation would rather have you off the throne than live under you?”

and katara crosses her arms. “see, she’s trying to sabotage--”

“hold on,” zuko says, scanning over his paper once more. “she points out something right, actually.” and katara sits back, narrowing her eyes at the agreement. “the fire nation colonies are certainly a place for conflict and opposition when it comes to ceasing territories. some have been settled there for as long as the war itself, and, as much as i’d hate to say it, they’ve made a life for themselves there.”

“yes, but a life based on stolen land,” aang points out.

“true, but we have to tell it to childrens’ and kids’ faces, who had no part in the violence, that they’re losing their homes,” zuko interjects. “and that’ll lead to parents complaining, too, about where they can take their families. you add that in with people who believe the colony is theirs, and those who want fire nation off their land, and you’ll have a mass protest. quite possibly, the start of another war.” azula shoots them a smug shake of her head. “there’ll be more problems like this when it comes to settling debt.”   
  


“okay, fine, i rest my case,” sokka says. “maybe she’s not trying to sabotage your plan.” and the princess settles with a satisfied  _ hm _ . “but, i admit, i’m surprised she even cared to bring it up. you’d think she wouldn’t bother warning you just so you lose your public appeal.”

at that, azula’s complacency cuts short with a scowl, cursing the watertribe boy for his share of unwanted honesty. “well,” she grumbles. “it’s practically unbearable to watch my idiot brother not know how to lead.”

that offhand comment, unbeknownst to the both of them, resurfaces plenty. zuko, after taking note of azula’s questions, lays the paper down with an exhausted yawn. “well, i’ve already sent out letters to earth king kuei and princess yue to talk about it with all of us, so, we’ll figure all that out later.” rubbing his tired eyes, he falls on a nearby couch. at sokka, he asks, “so, what do you have planned? for me?”

“for you?”

“yeah, don’t you remember?” zuko asks, shifting in his seat to face sokka. “you said you wouldn’t let me get off easy. you know, for lying. and i figured if you forgot, then, you know, you would be letting me get off easy.”

“yes! we would, and i know just the thing for payback,” sokka stands abruptly, having thought this out over the past few days as well. grinning at the tired and reluctant prince, he says, “we discussed it amongst ourselves many times, but, we’ve come to this--” he pauses, for dramatic effect, and zuko groans. “--free passes! ta-da! we all get free passes to do whatever we want with no consequences whatsoever in the fire nation. key word,  _ whatever. _ ”

“well, i was already gonna give you free passes,” zuko yawns, rolling onto his back. “you know, for bringing world peace?”

“well, forget that! free passes because you lied,” sokka insists, collapsing back into his seat beside suki. “and, since aang likes to bring you off on adventures at  _ night  _ and  _ without us _ ,” he says, shooting a disdainful gaze back at said avatar. “we get to have our own separative adventures with you.”

“thought you already did, you know, with me helping rescue your father and taking you to yon rha,” zuko points out to the siblings. 

“i still haven’t gotten one,” toph raises her hand. “where do i sign up?”

“me too,” suki adds.

“alright, seems fair,” zuko nods. then, mumbling, “is that all you guys want?”

and suki raises her hand excitedly, much to their surprise. “oh! well, free pass, but with a get-out-of-jail pass, a kyoshi warrior ship, and custom-made kyoshi warrior weapons. and also, my friends out of jail.” 

sokka raises his arm off the girl’s shoulder, shooting an incredulous look. “what are you even planning?”

“i think by now, my letter’s been received, and your friends and more are being released as we speak,” zuko informs, but makes a mental note of her other requests. “that includes everyone that was arrested during the invasion plan.”

they all nod in unison, relieved with the news, and suki raises her hand once more. “have you ever thought about introducing a sister brand to the jasmine dragon?”

and then, with a yawn, he rises from the couch to write the idea down. “i quite like that.”

“really? that’s all you want?” azula scoffs from her seat, her chains clinking against the wood table. it’s a silent wonder, by now, why she hasn’t slipped out of them. “if i were you, i’d make him give up his throne, throw him in prison, take up his title, and wage war all over again.” at their blatant silence, she sighs. “whatever.”

“see, she says stuff like  _ i wanna kill you all in one move _ and then gets all like  _ you needa do this to be a good fire lord _ , like, what?” sokka says, confused. but he notices beside his sister, aang shifting around silently. “and you! don’t think you’re off the hook either.”

“yeah, aang, liars get stitches,” toph retorts, sitting on the floor as katara combs through her hair. 

“don’t look at me, aang,” katara says when the avatar does so. “sokka, tell him what we decided.”

“we get to borrow appa and momo without your permission!” the water tribe boy reveals, offering no build up upon spotting aang’s already nervous face. “that’s right! no more hogging fun adventures to yourself, not anymore.”

“what could you possibly need momo for?” aang whines, petting said lemur in his lap. 

“no questions allowed,” sokka responds, crossing his arms over his chest. 

  
  


on the fifth day, zuko decides he’s well rested enough from his lightning wound to visit the market unaided--though his arms and chest still ache--and, choosing a walk with the prince over staying in a room with her past enemies, azula tags along, though unenthusiastic about publicly walking around in chains. zuko proposes a solution; he throws her one of her lavish robes and uses the long sleeves to cover the measly chains. and at the capital market, they both see it, a boy hovering around the stalls across the street, paying fleeting looks at the two royal heirs to the throne, both unguarded and unaided. 

zuko ignores it, checking the market stall selling apples for bad spots, and azula, at his chosen obliviousness, painstakingly waits, debating between letting her brother die a petty death in the streets or let her irritation take over. she chooses the latter, and as the peasant boy sneaks over--quite soundly, his shoes scraping against the ground--with his knife raised high, she kicks him in the abdomen, cutting short his slow approach. the boy drops the knife and falls on his back with a wild cry. before she can advance, zuko steps forward. 

“well, why don’t you throw him in prison already?” azula asks. then, bending down to the boy’s eye level, she mocks, “or, rather, i hear it’s a  _ deathly  _ penalty for treason.”

“no prison, no death penalty,” zuko refuses, pulling the boy to his feet. he picks up the knife, offering it by its handle. “for what reason do you have for trying to kill me?”

the boy takes the knife, hands shaking as he shoves it in his pocket, and he bows his head. “i’m sorry, prince zuko.”

“already forgiven. now,” he plants a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “answer my question. please.” 

“w-well,” the boy stutters. azula taps her feet impatiently. “my neighborhood has been requesting cleaner water for months. all our grievances have been neglected.”

zuko nods, mindedly noting it down, as azula, over his shoulder, orders, “run along now, boy.” then, at zuko and his basket of apples, “again, it’s unbearable for me to watch you not know how to avoid an assassination.”

the day before the coronation—after about a week of rest and thought—the jasmine dragon arrives in the fire nation harbor. the avatar, zuko, and co all await by the harbor, smiling at the wave of incense as the ship pulls in, and the moment it docks zuko spots feng jump out first, toppling and tumbling over the dock, followed by jang, kook, mara, and so much more that it turns into a flood. feng runs, and zuko starts, too, pushing past the pained wound. 

“lee! get over here you beautiful baby prince—“ feng’s shouts are cut off with a loud  _ oof _ as they collide, and a greater  _ ack _ as jang, daito, mara, kook, haku, and jee join in, surrounding the prince on all sides. “lee, i cried every night you were gone.”

“no he didn’t! i did,” daito sobs. “please don’t leave ever again.”

“i-i’m sorry, guys,” he laughs. “i didn’t know i’d be gone for so long.”

and they all pull apart, splitting down the middle for another passenger to step off--grey haired, smiling eyes, and spotting zuko with a joyful laugh; zuko hurries in his steps, his own laugh in the air as he pulls his uncle into his arms. “you made me worried, zuko,” iroh says into their embrace. and then, as they separate, he spots azula all the way at the end of the dock. “and i see you’ve made amends with your sister.”

“still in progress, but i’m trying,” zuko says and waves the princess over. she crosses the dock, briskly walking, and narrows her eyes at feng, who whispers, and daito, who whimpers, and kook, who grumbles. 

“ah, uncle,” she says, staring down at the man. “last i saw you, i told you zuko stopped caring about you while you were in prison.” and zuko shakes his head wearily. “well. i heard you reconquered ba sing se.”

“i freed it,” iroh corrects. 

azula shrugs. “well, whatever it was, congratulations.” then, turning to zuko. “i hope you know how to plan an event. you’ll have to seat all these people.”

“azula?” and the princess turns sharply, eyes on the ship, as the last few passengers step off the deck. ty lee approaches first, clad in her new kyoshi warrior armor, and mai follows, reluctantly standing beside her. ty lee tries a smile. “you’re here.”

and the princess drags both hands, chained together, up to her neck. “yes, i am.”

“well,” mai says, regarding both siblings with a narrowed glance. “we all are.”

“mai,” zuko greets. “thanks for saving me and my friend.”

“don’t expect anymore favors.” and she rolls her eyes. walking past, she doesn’t bother with azula. “see you at the coronation.” and ty lee follows, squeezing past with her kyoshi warrior friends. 

  
  


with the palace still void of most of its servants due to imprisonment and banishment--which zuko plans to fix--the arrival of the kyoshi warriors and the jasmine dragon crew is convenient timing. as the voluntary event planner, katara--though azula protested against it, saying she attended more royal events than the waterbender had--enlists their help in dividing the courtyard between the arriving fire nation, earth kingdom, water tribe, and foggy swamp attenders. 

as the planning ensues, the rest aid zuko in preparing a large feast in celebration of the coronation and, more importantly, the end of the war. jang, sokka, and feng work on the dumplings; while daito, zuko, and aang prepare the desserts; and kook, haku, and mara start the infamous  _ prince lee stew _ . azula stalks around the courtyard, dining room, and kitchen to check on all aspects of the coronation and pre-coronation feast, with suki and toph tagging along to speculate, though all her shrewd suggestions are taken lightly.

the dinner takes place in the courtyard, where katara and the kyoshi warriors had set up tables and chairs and the white lotus had brought in some jasmine dragon brand tea. azula voices her disposition with the multiple circle tables, once more suggesting to the less-than-enthusiastic katara that a long table with zuko at the head was far more appropriate, and more so indoors. but they feast anyway. after the soup goes cold and the dumplings go missing, they wheel out the desserts and begin a campfire for music night. 

chit sang, who surprisingly stayed, plays his official role as lute musician, strumming a melody that he, jee, iroh, and other white lotus members earlier rehearsed. azula sticks, albeit begrudgingly, to zuko’s side, avoiding the contempt katara and mai, as well as ty lee’s laughs all the way on the other side of the courtyard with her new friends. zuko talks with iroh and the others about future plans and an addressal to be shared, often seeking azula’s input whenever she makes a face. 

“wait, le--zuko,” katara calls, sitting beside her father. “honesty time--does iroh really have a twin brother.”

the crew, the avatar, and co, all interests piqued, cease all chatter for the answer. the crew awaits, grinning smiles, as zuko, with a heavy sigh, admits, “no.”

and sokka rises from his seat, the flimsy chair falling backwards. “i knew it! too good to be true,” he lets out a wail as he collapses on the ground, suki offering amused comfort next to him. “lies hurt.”

“wait until you find out about our study abroad program,” feng calls, adding onto the boy’s distress. 

“so, prince lee, you’re alive and well, i’m honestly surprised,” jang remarks, sliding a chair between the prince and his uncle. he slings an arm along zuko’s shoulders with a smile. “i though the avatar’s friends would’ve thrown you off a cliff when they found out you were the guy with the eyepatch chasing them.”

“well, a cliff would’ve been too easy,” sokka laughs. “honestly, i’m disappointed in myself for not realizing it right away. you wore an eyepatch and we didn’t know any better!”

“that was haku’s idea,” zuko voices, and said tea server snickers in his seat. 

“zuko had more costume changes than a play itself,” kook jokes before moving a tile on the pai sho board. across from her, daito wearily shakes his head. “i suppose, that’s the end of the dramatic flair now.”

“hm, not quite,” azula mumbles. they turn to her, surprised she even bothered to join in. “my idiot brother here might just use this  _ lee _ facade to avoid his responsibilities.”

“you know, i didn’t even think of that,” zuko responds. then, he adds, much to her annoyance, “thanks for the idea.”

as the laughs and chatter continue, zuko looks back at his sister once more, finding her, once again, peeking at mai and ty lee, both sitting together with the kyoshi warriors on the other side of the fire. he nudges her, and she scowls at the suggestion, “you should, you know, start talking to them.”

“as if,” she says, crossing her arms. “i’d rather not associate with such traitors.”

and the boy laughs. “i might need to learn how to lead, but you needa learn how to make amends.” and, without warning, mai and ty lee rise from their seats, targeting the uncomfortable princess. zuko stands, heading to the carts to serve more tea. “i guess, it starts now.”

  
  


the night before his coronation, zuko can’t will himself to sleep. a jittery mess on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as jang, sharing the couch with him, subconsciously nudges his leg aside. and, with a quiet step, he rises, stepping over feng, haku, kook, and daito sleeping on their cots on the floor. sparing one last glance at the lounge room--which they all collectively dozed off in, avatar and friends and tea servers altogether--he steps out, shutting the door behind him. 

he finds his way to the kitchen, passing all the guest rooms along the way--iroh, in one; jee, in the other; and the rest spread out down the hall. he turns the corner, stepping inside, and by the stove he finds--mumbling to herself, surrounded by spilt and unceremoniously placed spices--azula covering a small pot of boiling substance. “what are you doing?”

the spoon in her hand clatters to the floor as she spins abruptly, rushing to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “nothing. get out. what are you doing here?”

“i can’t sleep,” he responds, opening the cupboard for a glass. as he stalks across the kitchen to get some water, he peers over her shoulder at the stove. “what are you cooking?” azula mumbles. “what?”

“soup,” she grounds out. and, setting down his cup, he does a double take, leaning in for a proper gander. the so-called  _ soup _ is a pot of boiling water with spices down at the bottom. “don’t even think about--”

“i’m not judging, it’s--it looks,” he steps back and she eyes him wearily. “it looks good. for a first attempt.”

“whatever,” azula sighs, shutting the stove off. “what do you want?”

“i was thinking,” zuko begins, pouring himself some water from a pitcher. then, pushing her impatience, he sips his drink, clearing his throat. as he leaves the cup in the sink, he says, back turned, “i want to go see father.”

the confession meets a void response, with zuko standing over the sink and azula by the stove; they both know, admittedly, how often they considered such a thing. then, looking over, he adds, “together. if you want.”

but azula doesn’t bother. nothing voiced, but she follows him nonetheless; back down the hallway, past the guest rooms, past the lounge room of snores and dozing teens, and out the final door into the open courtyard. together, in silence, they cross the tiled grounds, and in a matter of minutes in the midnight air, they reach the prison. zuko excuses the guards by the door with a quiet nod, and, stepping inside, it’s no surprise they find their father resting on the ground in his own slumber. 

“he’s asleep.”

“yes,” azula retorts. “he is.” and zuko reaches for the lock. “what are you doing?”

“i’m going inside.” just as the cell door swings open, ozai climbs to his feet, raising a clawed hand at the boy with a loud shout. zuko, breath hitching, stays by the open door. 

and his father laughs. “little boy.” meeting azula’s eyes, he settles back on the floor, cross legged. “so you finally decided to see me. azula,” he quips, and the girl meets his eyes, her face void of any smile. ozai eyes the chains around her wrists. “you would let your brother win? i’m disappointed. in both of you.”

azula doesn’t say it, but he feels the question rising in her picking hands, pulling her sleeves over the chains.  _ why are we here? _ the prince steps inside, testing his father’s temper. “my coronation is tomorrow.” his father scowls. “you’re not invited.”

“aren’t i glad?” he muses. “i won’t have to see what a pathetic fire lord you’ve become.”

“stop.” zuko looks back to his sister, who stays behind the bars, watching silently. then, at his father, “i only came here for one thing.”

“some advice?” ozai mocks with a smug smile, marred with dirt and scratches. he gazes down at his feet, picking at the red skin by his chains. “father to son words of guidance? i--”

“where’s our mother?”

ozai looks up. azula, from behind, gasps lightly, gripping the cell bars tight. and zuko earns a laugh. “if that’s the only reason why you’re keeping me alive, you might as well kill me now.”

“where is she?” zuko grits his teeth, daing a step closer, and azula does the same--for what reason, he can’t tell. “tell me.”

the laughs continue, dipping into a mocking pout up at his son. ozai answers, honest, “i don’t know.”

the walk back to the kitchen continues in the same silence. azula strays behind, much to zuko’s displeasure, and back in the kitchen, he sets another pot on the stove and a pan on the other. “what are you doing?”

“making soup.” at that, the princess gains an irritated scowl as zuko, quiet in his steps, fishes out the vegetables, the cutting board, and more, all piling them on the kitchen island. he starts heating up the pan. “watch. you cut the vegetables first.” he does so, cutting the leftover vegetables that weren’t used in the earlier batch of prince lee stew (which, much to his pleasure, was cleared out to its last drop). “then you set it in the pan.” 

as the remainder of the night goes on, zuko continues with his short instructions, altogether boiling into a small pot of  _ prince lee stew _ , or as azula and him know it,  _ mother’s soup _ . the princess watches from the counter, smelling the aroma spouting from the pot with mild interest. in no time, zuko shuts off the stove, and slides across the counter a bowl of soup and another of rice. “there.”

azula doesn’t bother with a response, instead trying a sip, and before she can comment--something along the lines of  _ it’s too hot  _ or  _ too salty _ \--a loud call arrives, just as feng, jang, sokka, and a handful others do, “is that a midnight snack i’m smelling?”

zuko groans. “what are you guys doing here?”

aang rushes forward, peering over the pot with an eager smile. “you can’t ignore the smell of some good soup.”

“everybody in line,” kook orders, hushed, to mind the still sleeping guests. they fall in said line, awaiting with bowls and spoons for the prince to serve soup in. 

“thank you, chef lee,” jang bows his head and feng, behind him, snickers. 

altogether--the avatar and co, the tea servers, and, surprisingly, bumi--they crowd the  kitchen, quietly murmuring about and sipping their bowls of soup. 

“now i feel like you’re doing this to torture me,” azula says, entering zuko’s room. the prince stands before his mirror, slowly pulling his coronation robe on as his arms and abdomen ache. azula offers no assistance, instead sitting at his desk. “i think you are. why else would you invite me?”

“i want you by my side,” zuko says, slowly raising his hands to his hair with a gold band weaved between his fingertips. he pauses, hissing at the pain. “because you’re my sister.”

“spirits, give me that,” azula sighs, grabbing the gold band from his hand and pushing his aching arms down to his sides. “it’s painful for even me to watch you attempt that.” with a stern hold, she pulls his hair up, sparing no stray strands, and, tightly, she winds it all together with a strong twist. “there. you’re like a kid.”

“thanks,” he murmurs, and she sits back down. “i see you’re getting along fine with suki and toph.”

the comment is honest. admittedly, at first, to be in the same room together was unbearable for any of them. however, suki had compassion, and toph a stern hand, which azula learned early on with her snide retorts and dignified refusals. the princess had often refused the food katara and zuko cooked, and, late at night, suki, to give zuko some rest, broke away to offer one last meal at azula’s door. when they all met together to discuss plans, azula’s jabs at zuko’s stressing and aang’s optimism was quickly shut down by the earthbender’s own criticisms, thus turning azula’s attention to her instead, who wasn’t so easily offended. but azula scoffs, “as if.”

and zuko smiles. he knows she likes the late night meals, after starving herself for hours; he knows she asks suki when they’re alone to themselves about her warrior friends; he knows she has her fun when toph picks at her cackling laugh and she picks at toph’s short height; and, they all knew, when azula left her room, suki and a still-unenthusiastic (but tolerant) katara just behind, with her bangs all evened out. altogether, it seems nice, but azula thinks too often of her old friends, zuko knows that. sokka knocks on the door, informing them of the sudden wave of visitors, and the siblings head to the courtyard, where the ceremony is set up. 

as sokka leaves to find suki, katara, and toph, the royal siblings meet aang by the curtains. azula peeks through the curtains at the courtyard as zuko smiles down at the avatar. “i can’t believe a year ago, my purpose in life was hunting you down. and now…”

“now, we’re friends,” aang smiles back. “i can’t believe a year ago i was frozen in a block of ice. the world’s so different now.”

the prince lays a hand on aang’s shoulder. “and it’s gonna be even more different, when we build it together.” 

pulling the avatar into an embrace, zuko wraps his arms around him, and aang follows quickly with a laugh. separating, zuko turns to azula, who stands idle, void of her usual snarky remarks. “what’s wrong?”

“they’re all out there,” she murmurs. zuko understands. no father by her side, no nobles to praise her; just a venue of fighters that opposed and won over her. it’s less out of dislike and more of respect--the ceremony of a firelord allied with the avatar, deserving of a guest that actually advocates for his beliefs. “i shouldn’t be here.”

“no, they don’t know you yet,” zuko assures. “oh, i forgot.” he reaches for her wrists, pulling down her sleeves, and grabs the chains, easily snapping it off with a hard tug. azula knows. she tested it a week ago. “there.”

“aren’t you afraid?” she asks zuko, and then looks to aang. both offer nothing but light smiles and shrugs. “i could just take him right now. kill him, even. are you okay with that?”

“are  _ you _ okay with that?” zuko counters, making small last-minute touch-ups on his appearance. he fixes the cuffs of his sleeve, checks for marks on the bottom of his robe, and, looking at azula, he notes the surprise on her face. she looks healthier now. “come on, let’s go.” he puts out a hand, waiting for her to take it. “we’ll go together.”

and she stares at it, for a moment, testing the freedom of her wrists. “really?”

zuko nods. “brother and sister, right?”

aang watches. azula takes it, and she doesn’t know why. but with a small nod, zuko pushes the door open, and they enter the open courtyard, where everyone awaits. they holler and cheer at the prince as he steps onto the platform before the fire sages. he doesn’t let go of azula’s hand, even as he waves at the applauding audience. “please, the real hero is the avatar.”

aang takes up zuko’s other side, and it seems the crowd is far too busy praising the avatar and the prince to bother worrying over the standoffish princess beside them. aang smiles up at him, and zuko smiles back, and, nodding at azula, he begins his addressal, the one they drafted just nights ago. 

“we all meet here today not only to celebrate a new fire nation under a new leader, but the end of a hundred-year long war,” zuko announces, garnering a round-about applause and praise. “as the new firelord, i, zuko, son of ozai and great-grandson of sozin, aim to work with all three nations and the avatar in reversing and amending all actions of warfare enforced by my forefathers. this hundred-year war has been strung on for too long, and has brought unnecessary suffering and loss for selfish gain.

“i promised my uncle, my friends, and family that i would restore the honor of the fire nation,” he continues, nodding down at iroh in the crowd. and iroh smiles back, standing proud beside the rest of the crew. “and i will. the road ahead of us is challenging. all this violence and warfare has left the world scarred and divided. but with the avatar’s help, we can get it back on the right path and begin a new era of love and peace.”

aang steps back as the fire sage approaches with the fire lord crown. sharing one last look, he lets azula’s hand go, and she backs away, watching zuko kneel down before the crowd. she stands with a heavy chest as the fire lord crown lays into the prince’s topknot, but in the following moment, as the fire sage calls, “all hail firelord zuko!” and as everyone cheers, she bites it all back with a hardened gaze. the sight of zuko rising to his feet, bowing to the crowd; she takes it in, spotting mai applaud with an indifferent smile, ty lee jumping with a small cheer, and suki and toph together erupting in proud applause. and then, zuko reaches back, taking his sister’s hand once more, and aang’s hand in the other, as he guides them down the platform and to the awaiting visitors. 

aang breaks off with a small joking retort, before heading off to embrace katara. and zuko, amidst all the  _ congratulations lee _ and  _ great job zuko _ , spots azula’s silent gaze. “well, what do you think?”

and she reaches, gently messing with a stray hair on his face. “i think you deserve it.”

  
  


following fire lord zuko’s coronation, he immediately sets off to meet with earth king kuei and princess yue of the northern water tribe. he leaves behind his throne to azula and, to prevent any unnecessary banishments, toph, who immediately volunteers for the task to avoid accompanying them at sea. azula is quite fond of the idea, asking the earthbender what her favorite tea is. (when toph responds  _ premium jasmine tea _ , the princess scoffs, saying  _ then you haven’t seen my uncle’s old stash _ ). katara and aang voice their doubts about leaving the throne to two daunting girls, but zuko insists. 

the day after his coronation, zuko boards the jasmine dragon with the white lotus, kyoshi warriors, the avatar, hakoda, sokka, and katara. the jasmine dragon and king kuei’s ship meet at the north pole, the middle ground, and the respective leaders all visit the teahouse to discuss over tea. with king kuei, princess yue, the avatar, zuko, and hakoda, sokka and katara each representing their own nations, they begin the discussion of territories, aid, and reparations. 

the meeting goes on for two weeks, and it comes down to this: zuko proposes and revises his plan to split all fire nation forces amongst the four nations--to transport displaced refugees and resources for food, water, and shelter; to pull out all armed forces stationed at the conquered territories; and to rebuild all destroyed settlements. for each fire nation soldier and commander that participated in any form of conquest, their service was to be done in aiding the other nations. yue suggests a change in fire soldier uniform and weaponry, strongly committed to leaving behind all remnants of a war-based military, and offers her own force of waterbenders to assist. 

as for reparations, zuko offers a quadrant of his forces to rebuild and refortify the south pole, to amend for sozin wiping out the waterbenders of the southern water tribe. for the earth kingdom, zuko agrees to pay reparations yearly, on the eve of the battle at wulong forest. earth king kuei, returning to his throne with stronger commitment, presents a campaign for addressing fire nation presence, primarily the fire nation colonies in the earth kingdom; a campaign sokka coins as,  _ the harmony restoration movement. _

the night of his return from the two-week meeting, zuko drafts an addressal to the fire nation, with, namely, azula and sokka--azula, who is strict on the authority in zuko’s words, reminding him of dissenters like that boy from the market; and sokka, who reminds him of a genuine approach, to gain respect and admiration. altogether, they settle on a short, candid piece, read over and over by all of them, and each adding in their suggestions. two weeks and a day after zuko’s coronation, the addressal is read and sent out:

_ my people,  _

_ the war raged by my forefathers is now over. in place of my father’s violence and conquests, i will work to restore the balance between the four nations by allying with the avatar. as the fire nation, we must do our part as a nation to bring about the peace and prosperity that our past leaders have disrespected.  _

_ many of you will choose to desert me. many of you will choose to scrutinize me. but i lead, not with the right inherited from my father, but with these scars i bear for refusing him and his rule. the entirety of the fire nation has long been neglected and tended to as a nation based on violence. we are all descendants of this violence, so we must forgo our old teachings and open ourselves to change. _

_ many changes are coming and are in processing. we cannot be eliminated from the consequences of our war. but through it all i am your leader, of you alone, and i aim to work our nation towards greater prosperity and peace than my forefathers have achieved.  _

_ your firelord serves you.  _

_ zuko.  _

“...and, i visited the area to see progress on the dam,” zuko says, reading from his notes. “it seems it is nearly done. by the end of next month, at least, we will have clean water ready for the returning families.”

the topic on discussion was a two-month long project zuko had been tackling since becoming firelord. while three quarters of his forces were spread out amongst the three other nations, he, azula, and the new handpicked advisers (he’d fired the old ones weeks ago) had been splitting the remaining forces between reconstruction, relocation, and water purification. the project began when zuko and azula paid their first visit to the lower regions outside of the capital (influenced by the young peasant boy that tried to assassinate zuko not too long ago) where they noted all problems on sight—the polluted water, the run-down housing, and the large amount of families living in crowded spaces. 

after having defunded the weaponization of the military, zuko suggested redirecting the (immense amount of) money into separate projects of reconstruction and water filtering. at the idea of forced relocation, azula highlighted the possible areas of opposition—where would families live while waiting for their homes to be rebuilt? what of families that depend on a workers’ income?—to which zuko solved with 1, the relocation to the now-empty households of the capital (deserted by nobles that opted to leave the fire nation than face the fire lord), and 2, funding said families with the staved-off money from the military. 

“we’ve received word that the inhabitants of jang hui are in the process of relocating back to their village,” one adviser reports. said village, situated on the jang hui river, was one of the early reconstruction projects that took place, to expand the village and install more space for farming. “for complete relocation, the process will take three weeks.”

“good, after that, we just have the eastern regions of the island, and they’ll be easier to relocate,” zuko says, barely feeling the weight take off his shoulders. then, he stands, and azula groans. “why don’t we take a walk outside?”

“as you wish, firelord zuko,” the advisers muse, rising with him and following him out the council room. 

azula reaches her brother’s side with a scoff. “another walk to the courtyard,” she mocks. “you just want the avatar to kidnap you again.”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” zuko shrugs as they enter the open-roofed centerpiece of the palace. “iroh always said taking a walk after long meetings is good to circulate your blood. that, and some—“

“some good tea, yes,” the princess finishes, having heard that advice countless times already. 

and zuko chuckles, nudging her in the shoulder. “oh, come on,” he says. “if you want to come along so badly, you can just ask.”

“i don’t want to come along with you so you can neglect your duties,” she seethes. and then, the shadow looms, and the advisors, fearful of the occasion once again, retreat back inside. she sighs. “not again.”

“again, if you want to come with,” zuko offers once more as he steps back with his arms out. it’s an irritating sight, watching the watertribe boy precariously lower a lasso of rope around the fire lord’s frame. “you can ju—ah!” 

appa sweeps high in the air, and zuko flies, just for a second, before sokka yanks him on board. azula, with a huff, turns back to the council room, preparing some long-winded explanation regarding the fire lord’s most recent abduction, until she feels something snag against her own waist. it tightens, and she spots the rope all too late, as it pulls her up with a laughing tug. she manages a small gasp before landing on the bison’s saddle with a grunt, and she sits upright at the sight of the avatar, toph, suki, sokka, katara, and zuko. “you kidnapped me, too?”

“you were in that meeting for approximately four hours,” sokka recalls, noting the height of the sun. “we figured you both might need some busting out.”

“how have you not made this illegal yet?” she scolds zuko, reaching to fix his hair. she shoots a weary look at sokka. “i’m sure these  _ busting out _ s of yours would surely land you all in jail.”

zuko shrugs. “free passes, remember?”

and azula sits quiet, as sokka rambles on about his and katara’s progress in the south pole--they’d left over a month ago to supervise the fire nation soldiers fortifying and building up their tribe--while toph boasts about her students in her new metalbending academy, and suki informs the firelord about the  _ green leaf _ tea brand--the kyoshi warriors, as promised, got their meeting with iroh, who was so excited at the idea of a sister brand he immediately agreed into the prospect. both the  _ jasmine dragon  _ and the  _ green leaf _ , zuko last heard, enlisted in the voluntary escorting of refugees and fire colony families on their tea routes, all free of charge. she watches as zuko laughs and groans about his new paperwork, and as aang teases the firelord--through it all. and then, when they finish, they all turn to her, and she asks, “what, me, too?”

“yeah, what have you been doing, miss princess?” toph asks. 

“i assume, not overthrowing your brother,” sokka muses with a snicker. “unless, that is what you’ve been doing, of course.”

“if i was planning that, he’d be in prison already,” she scowls, crossing her arms. that brings nothing but smiles. “what?”

“aren’t i glad you’re not planning that?” zuko smiles. then, with a nudge, “come on, tell them.”

the princess eyes her brother with a scowl, and then, begrudgingly, “zuko’s been teaching me how to…” zuko’s grin grows and the dread within her worsens as the rest of them grow excited. “...cook.”

“oh, my,” katara gasps teasingly. “what an accomplishment.”

“what have you learned?” suki asks, mildly interested in said accomplishment. 

the fire lord nudges azula once more, bumping shoulders with an encouraging  _ come on _ . then, groveling in her seat, the princess answers, “soup.”

the ride goes on, discussing new and old news, with aang joining in with quick quips before returning his gaze at sea, eyes wandering around for a certain teahouse in the water.

“and, don’t forget,” sokka says, reaching over to snatch the fire lord crown and pull the gold band out of his hair. despite azula’s protests, the watertribe boy continues, combing through the boy’s hair and smoothing the kinks. “there. ah, where’d zuko go?”

“oh, what?” aang looks back with a laugh. “is that lee? where’ve you been, buddy?”

it doesn’t take long for appa to find one earth kingdom port, and they touch down on the busy teahouse docked below. altogether they step on deck, and before laying a foot, zuko is already bombarded by feng, as he cries over the firelord’s robes; kook, who remarks how tall he’s grown; haku, who picks at his tired eyes, and so on. as jang leads the avatar, co, and azula to their table, zuko retreats below deck, back to his room. 

“so, these are the teahouse people that managed to mess with my brother’s head,” azula remarks as jang hands her a menu. “i don’t see much.”

“trust me, princess,” jang says with a grin. “if we can turn a prince, we can turn you.”

azula huffs, and when zuko steps on deck--with a casual, less-firelord attire--he grabs a teapot and some empty cups, delving into the evening rush in a relieved feng’s place. after fist-bumping daito and jang, he makes his rounds, greeting the regulars-- _ where have you been, lee? _ \--refilling cups, cleaning tables, all with a light smile. katara remarks, “it’s always a wonder how he goes from firelord zuko to lee so easily.”

“it’s a wonder why he even bothers at all,” azula mutters, toying around with the small plate on the table. “so, this is what he does when you kidnap him.”

“yeah, basically,” aang nods as katara relays their orders to jang. “just tea serving. it’s weird, it’s like he loves it.”

“he does, maybe a bit too much,” jang snickers as he gathers up their menus. he retreats to the carts, handing the written down orders to kook, and mumbles a light joke to zuko. the firelord laughs, smacking jang’s shoulder, before heading back to a couple with their hands raised. 

“oh, now look who’s touching base,” mara calls with a grin, eyeing the waters. customers and tea servers alike look out the harbor and spot an incoming ship--bought off a retired serviceman, revamped with tapestries and flags, and boarded by trained warriors and pai-sho players.

on deck, the kyoshi warriors wave as the  _ green leaf  _ teahouse docks just across the jasmine dragon. each ship housing its own customers and travelers, the tea servers exchange greetings across the distance. as the evening passes, and the customers step off one by one, the kyoshi warriors and white lotus members step off the  _ green leaf  _ and climb aboard the jasmine dragon to view a late sunset.

“iroh, i missed you!” feng wails, joined by the rest of the crew as they crowd the uncle with cries and outstretched arms. 

“i missed you too, kids,” iroh chuckles, pulling each one in for a tight embrace. he goes through feng, daito, jang, haku, mara, and kook first, before they all clear out for zuko. “now, who is this? my nephew, the firelord, or my other nephew, lee?”

“who do you guess?” zuko reaches for his uncle, and the crew coo an  _ aw _ as nephew and uncle reunite. in his uncle’s shoulder, he laughs. “you were gone too long.”

“as were you,” iroh smiles. then, chit sang pulls out his lute, jee his violin, and feng his drum, and music night begins. 

  
  


much to zuko’s surprise, azula bands together easily with old and new friends, as ty lee excitedly exclaims about operating as a tea-serving and protective transport service-- _ we were bringing this cute boy to ba sing se _ , she recalls,  _ and he said i was a strong warrior, and he put a flower in my hair _ \--suki recalls their harrowing stories about pirates, sea monsters, and spirits; mai, who was tagging along to avoid her aunt’s offers to work at her flower shot, offers her share of encounrters; and as toph takes pride in her new metalbending students. he watches from the upper deck as iroh sings his typical solo, and feng plays his drum and the crew huddles together for another pleasant night. 

“hey.” sokka slides into place beside the firelord. “you always seem to end up here.” zukots, shrugs. through all kidnapping attempts, sokka proves to be true. “wanna grab some more mooncakes?” and he nods, following the watertribe boy down onto the main deck. 

“zuzu, i was just telling them about that one time you cried when i hid the turtle ducks,” azula calls from her couch. she cackles. “ah, your face.”

he rolls his eyes as her sister continues on and, with sokka, they bombard the dessert cart with eager hands. zuko grabs another teapot as they return to the couches propped around the campfire. as chit sang strums, the fire lord refills everyone’s cups. daito, in between scoops of his pudding, thanks, “ah, thank you, fire lord lee.”

“now, don’t stay away for too long,” kook says, reaching up to plant her hands on the fire lord’s cheeks. pulling him close, she continues, “you’ll get grey hairs.”

“feng gets grey hairs whenever you leave,” jang laughs, and the engineer shoots him a scoff. “and don’t try to leave without a fight. you’re still my training buddy.”

“of course,” zuko muses. “who else will kick your ass?” with a laugh, he returns to sokka’s couch, finding the watertribe boy hunched over a board of paper with an ink brush in his hand. “what are you doing?”

sokka looks up, and groans. “ah, you moved! i was trying to capture the moment.”

“is that why you wanted me to come down?”

he nods and laments about his painting. “everything was perfect, chit sang was playing his lute, i got the campfire just right, your sister doesn’t look scary here, and--oh, where’s aang and katara?” 

zuko follows sokka’s sorrowful gaze to the empty table by the bow, and then to the campfire, where no waterbender or avatar sit, and then, with light feet, they tread towards the stern. and there, by the railing, katara and aang stand, watching the horizon. the last moments of the sunset pass slow, encasing the two of them in a golden haze. 

“you think aang’s gonna make a move?” zuko whispers. katara’s hands find their way to aang’s.

“he better not,” sokka warns, itching to step in. then, with a sigh, he says, “oh, whatever.”

katara and aang embrace, and soon after, their silhouettes parting the sunlight, their shadows meet once more. a kiss, daint and slow, and full of patience. sokka turns away with an  _ ugh, oogies _ and a scowl and zuko laughs along, retreating back to the campfire with him. 

in this moment, he doesn’t know it, but he feels it nonetheless; everything he’d ever need but had never known. the peace, the tea, the smiles, the laugher. all shining golden, for one last moment, to see clearly. it’s homely, in such a newer sense than he’d ever felt before, and rather than reminisce in the past of what was, he takes the sight before him for what it will be. sokka looks back at him, just as kook does, as iroh does, as the rest do. “now, what’s that face for?”

and he laughs. “i’m just happy.”


End file.
